A Long Way
by Bodmin
Summary: This story is set after the last episode of S4, with some changes in the ending. There was no Tommy's Taxi and therefore no premature labour. Martin has gone to London and Louisa has given birth in Truro hospital alone.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures.

I am not a native speaker, so I apologise for any "oddities" language-wise.

This short story is set after the last episode of S4, with some changes in the ending. There was no Tommy's Taxi and therefore no premature labour. Martin has gone to London and Louisa has given birth in Truro hospital alone.

It was eight month. Eight agonizing months. Eight months where he would have expected some improvement. That at least the pain would subside. He didn't expect any happiness. Well, in fact, he never actually had expected that much. Just that his mind would provide him enough peace to function properly again. To go on – somehow.

Eight months ago he had fled from the village. The only place where he had found some sense of belonging. Where he was – for three short weeks – as happy as he most probably could be. But again something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong. He couldn't even say exactly what. OK. They had called off their wedding. But even on that day it had seemed to him that they had parted as friends. Her last words had left him with some hope. "_It says I love you, and I really do"_. Then he still had hoped that they would continue in some way. But her very last words "_See you around." _hadn't been true for too long. She simply did the unthinkable. Louisa had left Portwenn. She had not only given up on him, he could understand that, no – he had ruined her life completely. He could hardly bear to be in the village – everyone looking at him accusingly for scaring Louisa away, every corner haunted by memories. He had to try to overcome his weakness to be able to leave. To move on.

And then the next blow. Out of the blue, without warning, when he was already shattered, she knocked on his door. Just like that. As if nothing had happened. But something did have happened. Something he never thought was possible. Not with him anyway. How could he ever be a father? Why hadn't she warned him? He always was lost when he had to handle private affairs spontaneously. It was nothing like an emergency – you can train these situations and practise them until they become second nature. And then you just had to function properly and systematically. But nothing in his whole life had prepared him for this moment. He most probably made every mistake that was possible. He knew that he still adored her. When she was standing in his doorframe – oh, so lovely. But he couldn't think properly, to be honest, he couldn't think at all. He tried to process this information, when he was hit by the unthinkable. Pregnant! Could that mean? His thought wandered back to the proposal. Louisa had her own thoughts about the way it should be celebrated, and on that day his adrenaline level had been so high and his body was so worn out by crying, worrying, accusing himself and lack of sleep that he was but too willing to be comforted by her. When she had taken his hand and led him up her stairs, he was already lost. They soon were lost both – in each others embrace. All the new emotions, the passion unbeknown to him, had hit him on that day, and she led him to new heights, unconquered lands, where he hoped he could feel at home some day. No, he didn't regret. Not on the next morning, when she had asked him. Not even now, when he had to face the consequences of this fateful night but too clearly. But how to react? There must be some code of behaviour? Why had no one ever prepared him for moments like this?

Out in the open, in front of his house things had gone definitely wrong. He drove her away with all the wrong questions. And this time there was no loving twinkle in her eyes. Just contempt. The way she put her chin out and declared with all certainty that he should have nothing to do with the child left no shred of hope in his heart. But he could understand her but too well. Who could possibly want him as a father of a child? He had told her once that she would make a lovely mother. And that includes keeping all danger away from the child. To keep him away from it. She was right.

Another sleepless night, another night of self-accusations. But this time it was definitely too much for him. Seeing _his_ Louisa, knowing she was carrying _his_ child, not be allowed even to do his duties as a doctor for her, not be allowed to help her, to care for her, being pushed further away every time they met. She didn't even allow him to support her financially. Surely his money couldn't do any harm?

He had left – eight months ago. He had taken the job at the Imperial hospital, backed up by his old tutor Robert. He had done something he never had done in his life before – he had lied. Lied about his haemophobia. He was far from being cured. But everything was better than to make life bad for Louisa in her own village. She was at home there. There was no home for him. Never.

He had left shortly before Louisa was due for birth. She actually never had mentioned anything to him about the expected day of birth. But he was sure that she must have conceived on the night of the proposal, and although he might be a fool, he was not such a fool not to be able to add nine months to this date.

Shortly after he thought she was due he had written her a letter, requiring if she was alright, expressing his concern that she hopefully didn't have to go through too much excruciating pain – he shuddered at the thought of his beautiful Louisa, pain stricken, alone – maybe for hours. He had added a generous check for her and a saving account for the child, already provided with a considerate sum for the child, with the promise to fill it up regularly until its 18th birthday. There was no way that he would be steeling himself from responsibility. Surely he couldn't be a father, but he could easily support a child. And he was bound to do it. He didn't dare to ask about the baby. Louisa had made it absolutely clear that he wasn't to be involved, and he wouldn't force her. She knows what's best. Best for the child. He had to put his own feelings aside for the child's sake. His unnerving urge to see it, him wondering if he might spot Louisa's beautiful eyes, her smile, anything of her beauty in that child that had to live with his genes. He just hoped Louisa would compensate for that. No, he had to put that aside. He didn't count. Never had, in fact, but for some very few months when he made a difference to her. Then he had ceased to exist. He was just mere functioning. A sort of operating robot.

He never received an answer. He had at least hoped for a short note, a call, an email – anything. But there was no sign that she had even received anything. He kept sending her money. At first he still added some note, but after a couple of months he just send her checks, and here and then a little gift when he passed anything he thought was suitable, things that he read or heard about would assist the child's progress or the well-being of the mother. He never heard anything from Louisa. He received a letter from Aunty Joan now and then, but she also never mentioned her or the child. Probably Louisa had forbid her to involve him. She was right.

He soon found out, that the flat that Robert had organised for him was too big for him, and really a waste of money. He had gritted his teeth into his work. He was absorbed by it completely. He didn't exist outside the hospital. And to be honest, the few hours he spent sleeping in his flat weren't worth the ridiculously high rent. And then the commuting to the hospital. Really not worth it. When a young doctor started in his team searching for a flat for him and his wife, he was glad to pass it over. He had already agreed to do most of the night shifts anyhow. Shall those be at home who had a shoulder to rest their weary heads on. He was fine with some spare bed in hospital waiting for any emergencies. His attempts to get some sleep ended in turning and tossing anyhow. Every night she was in his dreams. Sometimes holding a child with an empty face. A boy or girl. He didn't know. But somehow he was certain it was a boy. Silly!

He still hoped he would get over it. It must be possible in due time. He just had to work hard enough and push himself even further.

He had gained himself supreme reputation in those few months. There was no operation he considered to be too difficult, he never complained about doing even another operation. And no one had spotted his haemophobia so far. It was true, he still found himself retching whenever he spotted even a drop of blood. And now he was daily practically covered in it. But he came to be thankful for this handicap. He found out that his nausea was so dominating and that he had to focus so much to cover it that this was the only time when he didn't think of her, of the child. He was a man on his own, fighting against himself. There was no world outside and there was no responsibility but not to vomit into the open wound. He could manage that alright.

But now, eight months after he left for good the only life he ever had worth living, he was crushed again. He had been to see a patient the evening before he had to operate him yet again. Terrible car crash. Several fractures. Internal bleeding, which were now under control. He would need some plastic surgery when he was finished with stitching him together. He also received trauma counselling by the best psychiatrist the Imperial had to offer. A wonder really that he had made it out of the car in one piece in the first place.

Martin was on his way through the ward to his little room for yet another night shift when the words hit him unexpectedly. Out of one of the rooms he heard the pleading voice of a man, supposedly talking to his wife: "Please get better soon, _I can't bear to be without you!"_ The voice was dubbed in his mind by his own, seeing Louisa in her striped blue sweater in front of the backdrop of the beautiful Cornish coast. He stumbled forwards, started to run, he had to reach his sanctuary. No one was to see him. Not like this. He knew he would break down very soon. He had used himself too freely lately to have the strength to fight these memories. That was the trouble though. He had to push himself right to the edge to function at all, but now this stupid sentence had pushed him over. He was falling. And he rather would drown in privacy.

He reached his room. Sat down at his little desk, tidy as he always worked until the last bit of work was done, until he couldn't possibly find anything to keep his mind busy. His head crashed onto the desk, and he found the sensation of the wood hitting his head quite soothing. At least it was a pain he understood, that he was in control of. So he did it again – and again. He banged his head onto the desk until he didn't know anymore if the pain came from his sorrow or simply from the bruise that was developing on his forehead.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Unfortunately, he hadn't made his escape so unnoticed as he thought. His colleague he worked with on the trauma case, Dr. Whitby, had noticed from the far end of the corridor that the always controlled, always aloof Mr. Ellingham had made a rather undignified exit.

As he was as professional as Martin himself, he couldn't help but follow his obviously distressed colleague. He had come to admire the professionalism of this accomplished surgeon, but was sometimes taken aback by his cold-heartedness. But then again, in his field you always expect a deeper level to be lurking somewhere.

When Dr. Whitby arrived at Martins door, he could hear banging sounds coming from within, accompanied by some whimpering. He entered quietly, knowing that he would breach the well-guarded privacy of this man they all worked with but no one really knew – nor liked. The view was disturbing. This bear of a man - epitome of self-control and professionalism, the same man they all joked about that the only reason that he didn't suffer a heart attack with his work amount was the simple reason that there was nothing that could attack him – this man was banging his head onto the desk, the blood from his forehead mixing with the tears streaming from his eyes, lowly whispering one name over and over again. He quickly shut the door. No one should see him like this. He would be subject to ridicule and some would find the occasion too tempting to pay him back for telling them off for their mistakes in front of everyone. No, this man definitely needed his professional help – like it or not.

Calmly he came behind him and firmly put his hand on his sturdy neck, to hold him down and prevent him from hitting the desk once again.

Martin didn't understand. Something held him back. Just when the pain started to wash away all these horrible thoughts he couldn't control, that were haunting him. His head seemed to be locked somehow. He couldn't move, but taste the blood, sweat and tears on his lips. Then he noticed. There was a hand holding him. Some firm hand that had stopped his motions. _How dare he!_ Furious now he jumped up, being stronger than his colleague; he was quickly on his feet and glared at him. "HOW DARE YOU! Just in case you didn't notice, this is MY room. Get out, immediately!" His fury was fired by the pain – in his head and in his heart.

Dr. Whitby's job had him encountered many threats. Some patients came to the point when they couldn't face their problems no more and put the blame on therapist. He knew that but too well and was not easily impressed. He just addressed Martin in a quiet voice. "You have hurt your head. Let me administer to it."

Defeated by the quiet tone and manner, Martin slumped back onto his chair and waved vaguely into the direction of the first-aid-kit. After he had cleared the wound and was just finishing the plaster, Dr. Whitby quietly asked "Who is Louisa?"

Martin stared at him, and Whitby could see for a moment grief, fury, astonishment and defence blink up in those light blue eyes all at the same time. In the end, the grief won. Martin could fight no longer. He was busy enough fighting against himself. There was no way that he could tackle another opponent.

"A Woman"

Dr. Whitby thought, _great, never would have guessed_, but instead asked: "Here in London?"

"Portwenn"

_Where? _Then he remembered rumours about this brilliant surgeon being a GP in a forgotten little village for some time. This wouldn't be easy. His new patient – and as such he regarded Martin already – was not the most talkative person he ever met.

"From your days as a GP, then?"

"Yes"

In this speed he would need all night to get even the vaguest idea of what was troubling his colleague, but he also knew that when he would try to speed things up, Ellingham would most probably shut down completely. At least he was responding in some way. So not spoil things by being hasty. His wife was on a conference abroad somewhere, so no one to go home to anyhow. And what would a sleepless night be in comparison with the torture this man was going through. Martin hadn't offered him a seat, so he kept standing behind him. Maybe it was favourable that he could hear the questions but did not have to face the conversational partner. But Whitby felt the pressure on him. He had no idea about the private life of this man. Never really could imagine he was a real person at all. And now here he was, with no more information than a woman's name and some rumours about a career setback he had suffered. At the same time he knew that one wrong question would scare him away, possibly forever.

"Patient?"

"Sort of. Not in the end, though."

"Why's that?"

"Didn't want me."

"Wrong diagnosis?"

"Nah. Something personal."

"You knew her then?"

Martin gulped. This was getting gradually deeper. Deeper than he wanted. Or did he? Maybe he had to get it off his chest. At least Whitby wasn't too inquisitive and seemed to be happy with his monosyllabic answers. And if he really would say something private, he could always claim his patient's confidentiality. Martin nodded towards an empty chair.

"Want some tea"

"No. Thanks." In fact, Whitby would have murdered for a cuppa, but was afraid that Ellingham would compose himself while preparing it and then he would have gone nowhere.

"Before I go on, I want you to treat this as if I was a patient. NO WORD TO ANYONE!" Martin glared at him. _As if_ thought Whitby, but nodded. "Sure."

"To be frank, we were engaged at some point. When she was carrying my child, she didn't stand the sight of me. Never let me near her. She referred herself to the hospital in Truro."

"You have a kid then? Boy or Girl?"

"Don't know. She never told me." Martin was staring into thin air now. He felt numb. This confession hurt more than he could have imagined. If he could only bang his head against the desk again. At least that had given some relief. But not while Whitby was around. He knew he wouldn't let him. But then again he was almost thankful to have someone who listened. Someone, so that he didn't have to be alone. Tonight he had realised with all certainty that there was no chance to wait until his sorrow subsides. There was no good reason why a simple sentence like that earlier should lead to a complete breakdown. Not after eight month. Something inside of him must be definitely broken down. He dreaded the thought of going to bed – or being alone.

"Didn't you make inquiries?"

"There is no point, really. If she'd wanted to tell me, she would have done so. She's probably right, so it's for the best."

"Not your best, obviously."

"No. But the child's. That's what really counts, isn't it? She has to think of the child first. Protect it."

"Protect it from whom?"

"Me"

"Did you act violently towards her, then?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN? HOW DARE YOU? WHO SPREAD THAT RUMOUR?"

"So you didn't then?"

"OF COURSE I DIDN'T! WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?"

Whitby was not impressed with the shouting. He wouldn't give in.

"So why do you think you would do any harm."

No reply. Silence. Whitby waited – for an answer, a reaction, an insult. Anything, really. But this was a dead end.

"You must have a reason to think she just protects the child. You didn't do anyone any harm ever, did you?"

"I ruined two lives, that's for sure."

"Whose?"

He was remembering what his mother had said to him. But that was something else. That didn't belong here. He thought.

"Let's say, wherever I go, I make people unhappy. That's just the way I am. Can't help it. Mostly don't even understand why. The deadly touch."

Whitby felt deeply now for this man. In the next couple of hours he found out something that was very rare among his patients. Most people thought, all the world was against them, that they weren't given a chance that they were alright, but the circumstances weren't. Here was the opposite. Ellingham didn't understand the world, literally. But he blamed him. When he talked about his Louisa, he never could find the slightest fault in her. He trusted completely that she was acting in the best course, and that he was just causing trouble. She was obviously simply perfect in his view. Whitby, on the other hand, couldn't help thinking that he himself found it quite cruel to shut a father, who was willing to take up some responsibility, completely out of their life. He could not understand her and approve of her behaviour. And he didn't believe there was any real danger in Ellingham. He might be a bit boisterous at times, but it seemed that shouting and throwing insults was all he did to defend him. To scare people away from his feelings. It would be a long way to get to him. When his wife was back he had to talk to her to get her permission, to share some night shifts with Ellingham. He was sure she'll understand. She usually did. He was bound to help this man, no matter how long it would take, as he felt he had rarely encountered someone so unable to help himself.

But now he was tired. Very tired. And he definitely needed some more information, and had to process the ones he was given up to now. A quick glance at the watch revealed that it was past two o'clock in the morning already.

When Ellingham had reached another eternity of silence, he reminded him that he was about to operate first thing in the morning, and surely he needed some sleep. "Can't sleep anyhow. But I'm keeping you. Sorry. You should have said something. Bye."

"You can't sleep, then. Just today, or usually?"

"Never go to bed early anymore. Used to. Can't stand it anymore. I hope to get so tired to sleep without those dreams. Can you stop dreams?"

"There are chances to alter nightmares. But you can't stop dreams completely, I'm afraid."

"No nightmares, really. Just makes being awake even more awkward."

"About her?"

Staring. A sigh. This man surely was besotted with that woman. Whitby knew one thing – either this man forgot about her, won her against all odds or would certainly break down very soon. Ellingham would never believe it, but Whitby admired his strengths, to carry on. Others had broken down ages ago.

"Want something to help to sleep?"

"Don't believe in sleeping pills. Just gives the illusion you solved the problem, but it doesn't go to the root. Just causes more problems, really."

"You're right, of course. But if you don't get any rest at all, you will never be able to tackle the problem. Will give you some strength. I'll get you some from the hospital pharmacy. I'll be back in a minute. – And I don't accept a no!"

He was back with a rather strong drug after only a couple of minutes and made sure that Martin was taking them. When he left him, he squeezed his hand: "I'll be back tomorrow night. We'll find a solution, together. Night."

Whitby sighed. He was truly tired by now. He had to talk to some of staff that knew Ellingham as a student, before this disastrous love affair had hit him.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next morning Ellingham was in the operating theatre as usual. He still felt a bit drowsy from the sleeping pills, but not worse than he felt usually from his sleepless nights. He was his brilliant, obnoxious self. When he looked at the trauma case to check if he recovered alright from the operation, Whitby, he also wanted to see after his patient, could hardly believe that this professional, self-controlled doctor, ordering his assistants around with his acid tongue was the same broken man he had left early this morning. Astonishing self-control. That also meant greater resistance against his therapy. No, it won't be easy.

He spoke to several of the staff that had studied with Ellingham and they all thought he was his usual _cheery_ self. They all agreed, he was an impossible man, but a brilliant surgeon. Funny rumours though about some haemophobia. Even as a student he didn't seem to have much of a private life. Just one affair was mentioned occasionally. Everyone thought they were the perfect match – all brain, no heart. But this Edith he was with back then even had the tendency for scheming to get what she wants. Seemed to be very ambitious. Ellingham on the other hand seemed to concentrate on his job always, never considering positions and his career. Never seemed to quite understand the mechanism of career-making. Never getting along with his fellow citizens. He never mingled, never joined any clubs, parties or took part in any social gathering. Anyone was sure he had no sense of humour whatsoever.

Obviously it wasn't enough to get to the bottom of this doomed affair. The problem must root deeper. They usually did.

He must find out about the two people whose life he thought he destroyed. Maybe that would lead somewhere. But he was wondering if he always was such a recluse and unapproachable person, how he came to be with this woman and even father a child. No wonder he couldn't cope.

When he came to Martins room in the evening, the atmosphere was different. He was in control, all defences up, but at least the pot of tea on the table indicated, that he was welcome. Ellingham started to inquire about the trauma case. So he wanted to stay on the safe grounds of his profession. That was not why Whitby was willing to sacrifice his night sleep. After the first cup of tea, he turned his attention to Ellingham's well-being. After a short struggle he gave in. He realised that he had to get used to it. Obviously this was going to last for some time. He wasn't sure if he should be thankful or not.

Martin found these nightly talks very painful and distressing. But when he was fed up after a few dates, Whitby dropped a hint that if he ever wanted to be able to contact Louisa about their child, he had to change. Most of all, he had to get an idea what he could do and what he couldn't and learn to accept help in the latter case. He had to learn to bear to be inferior in some situations. Not to be in control whatever it takes. With that he had left for the night, leaving Martin to think hard. Was he willing to go that far? He was out of his comfort zone by miles already with Whitby. What else had he to reveal, how much had he to think about himself, to reach that point. He had nothing to lose now. If you had nothing worth having, you were past the point of fear. In a way he was invulnerable now. He just had to come to terms with his old wounds. Wouldn't it be easier just to cover them? Why should he expose himself? No. He just had to go back to his old routine of distracting himself. That was his conclusion before he went to sleep. But in his dreams he was haunted again by this faceless child. In the morning he woke up with a startle, sweating heavily. Didn't he owe to him to turn this ghost into a real person? And he wasn't sure if this _he_ was he himself or the child.

Whitby had made it clear, that he wouldn't turn up again, unless Ellingham did ask him to. Martin tried to avoid running into him. Since Whitby's wife was back, Martin had spent two or three nights a week talking to Whitby. Now he had all evenings to himself, and to his work. But he found, that his dreams had become much more unsettling again since he didn't talk it over with Whitby. And when the next letter from Aunty Joan arrived, he felt again quite unnerving what she did _not _say. Again no mentioning of Louisa. He wanted desperately to know if she was alright, and if she had found a father for the child and a partner for herself. He wasn't sure though if he wanted her to be happy with someone else, or just jealous at the thought of another man in Louisa's bed. Keeping the past in check was not so easy after all.

Three weeks after he had seen Ellingham last, there was a knock on Whitby's office door late in the afternoon. When he answered the knock, Mr. Ellingham entered quietly. He looked down at the desk in silence for some time. Whitby held the eye contact.

"Do you really think I might be able to see my child someday?"

"I can't make any promises. But if the mother is just remotely like you described her, and if you can swallow your pride in the end – then yes, I think so."

"How, if she doesn't answer?"

"You might be more confident to approach her more appropriately. You'll have to make the big step and hope she'll respond. You will not be sure if it'll work unless you try. But we have to work together, so that you will be strong enough to take the risk, and I have to make sure that you will be able to take it if you might fail. This is a possibility, too, you know?"

"So what you suggest is, I'll take – how long – of an ordeal, to have a fair chance in the end to be completely defeated and have made a fool of myself."

"But at least you won't have to accuse yourself for not having tried everything. And you might learn something about yourself that will help you to cope better."

"It won't be easy for either of us."

"Don't worry about me." Whitby smiled. "But you're right. You'll have to go to your limit. If you go for it, you will curse yourself more than once. But I think it is worth the try. I think you're worth it."

Silence. Whitby was glad to see Ellingham there. And he was glad that he took the decision seriously. If he agreed, he would officially be his patient. And many patients jumped at the prospect of getting better without a second thought, but when they realised there was more to it than taking an aspirin, they got impatient, angry and less cooperative. This man didn't take the decision easily. That he was about to make it meant, that it was really important for him. He was sure that they were all wrong about him. He most probably was a very good man underneath, just not at peace with himself. How could he be in peace with the world, then?

The silence endured.

"How long, you think?"

"Can't say really. Six month. A year. Depends."

A loud groan. "Ok. Go on then."

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

Martin didn't like it, he didn't like it at all. But it was his decision, and he had to stick to it. At least he was sure that Whitby took patient's confidentiality very seriously. No rumours had spread, and he was thankful for that.

He was less thankful that he had to relive every humiliation in his whole life. The loveless home, the bullying at boarding school. Not being homesick, as he had no home he wished he would be, but just a sense of being displaced. The other children teasing him and attacking him for being weak, wetting himself, being too intelligent, his big ears – they always found something. The way he was exposed in not having any privacy at all with hostile boys sharing the bedroom, showers, almost everything. No one to turn to, to get comfort from. The only refuge in being better than the rest, so at least at some point they had to humour him, because they needed him. Needed him to improve their marks, needed him to explain all the things they didn't understand. Oafs, the whole lot of them. Aunty Joan as his only refuge. But even that had to be taken with a grain of salt – he knew from the first moment the exact date when he had to return to that horrid school. And then the day, when he wasn't allowed to visit her even for these few weeks of comfort. The sense of loss. The sense of being alone in a hostile world. To fight your own battle – alone. Growing up didn't ease the pain. He saw the others starting to date, felt some desire in himself, but he didn't dare to approach anyone. When he finally got the nerve to talk to one awkward girl, who was like him an outsider – a safe bet, he thought – she just laughed out loud and made it abundantly clear that she wasn't that desperate. He kept himself to himself. He never tried to contact anyone after that. It was less painful when you were alone. And school wouldn't last forever. Something to look forward to.

Hopes were shattered again. He had studied medicine because his father wanted to. He still tried to please him, although not even the top marks at school had stirred any signs of pride for him. All the other students seemed to be so content with themselves, although most of them didn't have much to be proud of. Others had taken the top jobs at university, not because they were better, but they knew how to flatter the professor. He felt displaced again. No, this wasn't his world either. He always hated any mess; it was his nature to be tidy. And the mess all the gore caused in the operating theatre made him nauseous. Again a subject to ridicule. He was the best student the university ever had, but no one liked him. They had to put up with him for reputation of the department. But that was all.

Then Edith. The first woman who approached him. An intellect to match his. Edith, who introduced him to the pleasures of the body. A field unknown to him, where he didn't feel comfortable at all to start with, but he had to admit that it was a powerful force. Edith, who learned how to exploit his sexual hunger. Edith, who wanted him to be the best, so that her career was empowered. Edith, who had left him for a top job without hesitation, when he had the nerve not to do as she told him. Edith, who made him lovesick for the first time.

But after breaking up with Edith, he had composed himself within a few months, really. Not that it didn't hurt. Not that he hadn't lost any trust in women. But he wasn't haunted. And he could function properly as a surgeon. His career made sure that he was at least respected. They couldn't deny his brilliance.

Then this fateful day. Already a reputed surgeon in his own rights, he realised for the first time that he was responsible for real human beings, people who were loved like no one would love him ever. That it was his responsibility to make this love possible in the future. He couldn't do it. He couldn't be responsible for more unhappiness. He couldn't operate. The smell of the blood when his blade cut the flesh hit him. He had to get out and vomit. He lost the one thing he got – his job. Further humiliations, further ridicule.

Then the only alternative – a huge blow for his pride. A post as GP in a remote place. He had some forgotten villages to choose from, so unimportant that they had to take what they could get. Even him. And then he saw the name Portwenn. Childhood memories yielded to the completely sentimental decision – Portwenn it was.

He felt displaced again. Everything and everyone seemed to be against him. Everyone but one person. Even before he reached Portwenn, he ran into Louisa. Beautiful Louisa. Optimistic Louisa. Louisa, who could be very critical about him, but also saw the good things he did. Louisa, the first person who ever apologised to him ever. Louisa, who made his day when he just caught a glimpse of her in the distance. Louisa, the first woman he was ever really interested in.

So in fact, Portwenn was the least unhappy time for him in his entire life. He had Aunty Joan, who supported him. And he had Louisa, who made him feel human just by being there. Louisa, who came to stand up for him. Who even forced ungrateful patients to apologise or thank him. Louisa, who encouraged him to court her. Louisa, whom he had hurt several times, sometimes not even knowing how. Louisa, whom he proposed to after he had pushed her far over the edge to the point of no return, so it seemed. Louisa, whom he got pregnant, most probably the first time they were together. Louisa, for whom he had stuck his finger into a pigs arse. Just to save a wedding, which wasn't to be in the end. Louisa, who he had driven out of her own hometown. Louisa, who couldn't turn to him in her hour of need. Louisa, who was drifting further away after her return, heavily pregnant. Louisa, who he had lost. Louisa, who had born his child after he had deserted her to go to London. Louisa, who had never responded to any of his letters.

Louisa, who was still in his dreams. Louisa, whom he missed so very much.

He had to learn and accept, that he had most probably Asperger syndrome (that horrid neighbour of Louisa was right, after all). He would never be able to react to people as others could. He would never be able to mingle. And he would never be able to respond to Louisa as she wanted him to. He wasn't capable of doing so. His brain just didn't process the information correctly. But he could improve his behaviour, when he learned to read facial expressions the way he read symptoms of diseases. He could adapt his behaviour intellectually, while others could do it by instinct. But he could do it.

He was assured that he did not destroy the happiness of his parents. That it wasn't his fault that their marriage broke up. That they were bloody well responsible themselves. He learned to allow himself to feel angry that they had neglected him. That it was OK to seek the guilt where it laid – not with him, but with them. He learned to appreciate the things he had done for others. Even when he thought it was just his duty, he should be proud for everything he achieved. He had done more than a normal GP would have done.

He learned that he wasn't "needy" when he vocalised his wishes, but that he had the same right to fulfil his needs as anyone else had. He hadn't to apologise to be alive. He had any right to.

It was a roller coaster of emotions. Sometimes he felt really low and washed out. But then the faceless child in his dreams gave him new strengths. He had a mission, and he had put far too much effort into it to let it fail. And one success he could see already. Whitby had been shocked to learn in the sessions that he still had his haemophobia. How could a man perform such self-control! He must be close to madness, to turn up every morning at the operating table, when just a drop of blood made him retch already. But with the help of Whitby he had come over it. No problems there. And that meant that he was also more confident with his other, far more important project.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

He realised that he never asked Louisa what she liked, what she wanted. He had inquired in his last letter to Aunty Joan if Louisa had found a new partner, if she had moved on. He had not asked about the child, although this question was burning in his mind. Joan had written back that Louisa had tried to date one man once, nothing serious, but had ended the whole thing pretty soon, as she didn't think he was good enough. So, he was bound to meet her and he wanted to make an effort. Impress her. He sat down, and thought about what he knew about what she liked and what she had used to do. He realised that, whenever she had been a bit more intimate, she had stroke his hair. It was almost always the first thing her hand had headed for. So he had let it grow out a bit. Not that it ever would be longish, but at least her fingers would be able to run through it, if she really ever wanted to again.

He remembered one of their early encounters, when she was heading for her surfing class (how long did she do it? he couldn't remember), she had said she wanted to see him out of that suit. He had asked Whitby about advice in some more casual clothes, just in case that he would meet up with her. As much as Whitby admired his determination, he was worried that he had his hopes a bit too high. He reminded him that all the effort Martin may make, there was no guarantee in success. Whitby tried to make clear, that this was about _him_, not just a project to win Louisa back. But for Martin's account there was no _him_ without her. He was bound to make it.

He had written to Louisa again in early April. It had taken eleven long months for him to find the strength. Now he felt able to explain to her. Explain his inabilities, explain all those ruined opportunities. And offer himself to her. Without restraint. She didn't answer. Again. But he was sure that if he could just talk to her…

He rang Joan. She had no idea either which efforts her nephew had made to win his one true love back. She just had been astonished when he had inquired about Louisa a couple of months back. Now he needed an ally. Maybe it wasn't fair what he was planning. But then again, always trying to consider Louisa's wishes and letting her lead the way had brought him into this misery in the first place. Either it would work – or he would bugger it up completely. But in the latter case, he would be just where he was now. He found, that having nothing to lose had its advantages. He didn't tell Joan the whole story. The less anyone knew the better. He just filled her in that he still was mad about Louisa, and considering she had no one in her life now – which Joan assured him was the case – he wanted to make one more try. A big one. But Louisa hadn't answered any of his letters. So if she could help him to arrange to meet her. He had rented a holiday cottage at the Cornish coast for the May bank holiday weekend at the end of the month. Far enough from Portwenn to avoid any unpleasant encounters, close enough that it wouldn't be too much effort for Louisa to get there, and even to get away from there if she didn't want to be with him. Would Joan take the child – he still didn't make any inquiries about it yet, he wanted to talk it over with Louisa – and drive Louisa to that address on that Friday afternoon. She just should drop her, and wait for half an hour in the car, just in case Louisa wanted to leave immediately. If she didn't come out in the first 30 minutes, then he hoped that they would part good enough friends for him to drive her back. Joan thought that this was indeed very odd behaviour for her nephew, but always thought if those two just had ever talked things through properly, they still would be together. She also thought, that he taken damn good time to come up with that idea. But better late than never. And with her waiting outside in case of a stormy departure, there could no much harm being done. She had taken the child overnight before, so there shouldn't be a problem there. Yes, she would help. Martin was relieved. So his idea wasn't totally Bodmin after all. Otherwise Joan would have never agreed.

At the end of the next session, he humbly asked Whitby if he could possibly come shopping with him. He never had bought anything but his usual suits, and would have really no idea where to look for something more casual, nor what might suit him. Whitby agreed, and on one Saturday the two men met up. Whitby had an awful time to convince a rather shy Ellingham, that no, he didn't look silly in his chinos, shirt and cardigan. Whitby knew he could never suggest something so extreme as a pair of jeans. In the end of the day, he had persuaded Martin to four different casual outfits.

On the next morning Mr. Ellingham's chief was rather surprised to find his hardest working surgeon asking for three days off at the end of the month. Martin had decided to go down to the cottage on Wednesday after work, so that he could prepare the cottage on Thursday, to make sure everything was perfect for Louisa's arrival on Friday. If everything went wrong, he would be back in London on Friday night. If everything would be hunky-dory, he would need the Tuesday to get back to be back at work on Wednesday. With Monday being a bank holiday, three days off should be sufficient. With never having asked for even an hour off and literally hundreds of hours working overtime, his boss didn't hesitate a second. His best surgeon should have his days off.

Martin's mind was fixed on that fateful day. He had to stop himself from writing to Louisa again, as that might just fire her suspicion. After work, in the sanctuary of his room, he had tried on all of his casual outfits several times to learn to feel more comfortable in them, although Whitby thought it might even be helpful if he felt a bit out of person, as it might sharpen his senses on how to react. Whitby was almost as nervous about the fateful date as Martin was. He knew but too well that this was the point where his therapy was put to the test, and he just hoped that Ellingham would turn out to be alright, whatever the result of this fateful date. Martin had gone over his lections to read facial expressions and body language over and over again, had performed controlled breathing, to calm down, so that he would be in control when it came to meet Louisa. He had to engage his brain before his mouth. Otherwise it would just end as it had always done before.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

May seemed to be the longest month of them all. And although Martin dreaded the moment as much as he was looking forward to it, he couldn't help but feel that he wanted to get it over and done with. Even if it should turn out to be a disaster – he wanted to know, now! The weekend before that special Friday, Aunty Joan rang. She wanted to make sure that her nephew had not had a change of plans. She hadn't told Louisa anything yet, but had invented a stupid excuse about some relative of hers who needed help with sorting things out and would ask Louisa if she would agree to help. Knowing that Louisa was always more than happy to give a helping hand, she was sure that she would agree. And come to think of it, it wasn't too far from the truth either. Martin assured Joan that everything should go to plan.

On Wednesday he made sure that he quit work dead on time for once. This alone plus the fact that he had taken some days off had caused the wildest rumours. He had rented a car, as he didn't want Louisa to recognise his Lexus. On his way to Cornwall he tried to keep his mind off Louisa. No use in worrying now. He could do that later if he failed.

After quite an uneventful journey he arrived at the rented cottage late at night. He had to leave the check of the house for the next day. He was exhausted and just needed some sleep.

The next morning he woke early. At six, he went downstairs to make some coffee and eat the sandwich he had packed the day before. As it was too early to do the shopping he used the time to inspect the accommodation. It turned out to be pretty much in tune with what was advertised. Upstairs were two bedrooms. He had insisted on that, as he didn't want to push Louisa. She should have all the privacy she wanted. He simply wanted to sort things out in quiet, not to throw himself onto her. Her bedroom was of a considerable size and had a wonderful view over the Cornish sea. He certainly hoped she would like it – that's if she stayed long enough to see it. The other "bedroom" must have been a storage room at some point, or at least it wasn't much bigger. It had probably been planned as a bedroom for children, but Martin would manage for these few nights. He just had to be careful how to enter the room as he could hardly turn. But at least it was clean. They would have to share the bathroom though, but he hoped that this wouldn't be too embarrassing for Louisa.

Downstairs was a small kitchen. He checked if the fridge and the cooker were working, as he planned to cook something for Louisa the next evening. Everything seemed to be fine and clean. To make sure for the latter, he planned to scrub the whole place thoroughly later. When he passed through a little doorway he entered a huge lounge with windows overlooking the sea. The view through those large windows was quite impressive. It had a nice sofa and armchairs in front of a fireplace. The cottage also had a small garden, with some old roses and shrubs, also overlooking the sea. There were no neighbours in view and no sound to be heard apart from the waves and the seagulls. Martin knew that Louisa loved Cornwall more than any other place in the world and always relished the sounds and view of the sea. That's why he had chosen this holiday cottage and after inspection he was quite happy with his choice.

By the time he had thoroughly inspected everything, it was time to do the shopping. He drove down to the next village a couple of miles down the road and bought enough fresh fish, vegetables, fruits, meat and stuff for breakfast for the whole weekend. He was looking forward to cooking for her as he liked cooking, but hadn't done so since leaving Portwenn. There had been no point really. He also bought the necessary equipment to clean the place properly. For Louisa, he also bought two bottles of good red wine and some fresh flowers for the lounge and her room. And one red rose. He had heard that this was supposed to be romantic. He couldn't see the sense in it, but it didn't hurt to try.

Returning to his accommodation, he turned the whole place upside down and cleaned it thoroughly. He decorated it with the flowers as best as he could, wiped the patio and the garden seats, just in case they might get the chance to have breakfast there. He remembered when Louisa had invited him over for supper and seemed to be keen to eat outside. So if she wished, they could have breakfast there.

As there was still some time to kill after he had finished all of his tasks he went for a stroll to inspect the landscape. If Louisa wanted to go for a walk he could lead the way and would know where to take her. There were several walks around there, some leading to the cliff tops with spectacular views, others down to secluded beaches.

After several hours exploring nature around his refuge, he returned to the cottage, checked everything over once again, fixed himself a snack, took a shower and went to bed in his tiny room. Just one more night.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. He was far too nervous and excited. After hours of staring at the ceiling he finally dozed off. When he heard the alarm at 6:30 he woke up with a startle. No time to waste. Get ready for the big day. This day would decide if he had to spend the rest of his life burying himself in work, or if it would be worth living. Today nothing was allowed to go wrong. He thought of Louisa and it hit him that she had no idea that they would meet today. He felt guilty, but that couldn't be helped now.

He got up leaving his shower for later, just prepared himself a cup of coffee and a small bite to eat. He wasn't hungry, but had to keep the blood sugar level up in order to do what had to be done. He started preparing their dinner. They would have some fresh fish baked with a crust of vegetables and some fresh potatoes. He would prepare everything so that he could just put it into the oven when they knew when they wanted to eat. Time flew by this time. After he prepared their meal he had his shower. He shaved carefully. Very aware of himself now, he combed his hair – hopefully Louisa would like it that bit longer. He carefully chose one of his casual outfits, also hoping that he wouldn't look too silly. When he decided that there was nothing more that he could possibly do, he went downstairs to prepare some tea. He took the tea on a tray with some biscuits, two cups and the single rose into the lounge. And then he sat down and waited. Waited for the sound of a car. It could be no more than two hours now. He could hear his heart pounding, and the palms of his hand were wet. He did the breathing exercise that Whitby had taught him to calm his nerves. He waited and stared out at the sea. He went through everything in his head to ensure that he didn't forget anything. But there seemed nothing left to be done. But waiting.

_To be continued…_

Thanks to fanficfan71 for proof reading. When there are still some odd things, then they are due to my stubbornness.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Louisa had reluctantly agreed to help this relative of Joan's. She didn't like to leave her child, especially as it was lacking a father already. She didn't want it to feel deserted by its mother too. But Joan sounded desperate. Joan didn't ask for help often, but in return was always more than happy to lend a hand. So Louisa had agreed to help. When she had finished school in the afternoon she took her little suitcase packed for the long weekend, then after putting the child's things into Joan's car they drove off. This relative of Joan's seemed to live in a really remote spot of Cornwall. They had to drive for about an hour until Joan turned into a narrow lane leading directly towards the coast. It was still beyond Louisa why she couldn't take the child with her, but Joan had been adamant. Louisa sat on the back seat to spend the last hour with her child before they had to part for a whole weekend. It almost broke Louisa's heart as she loved having her child around, but if there was no one else who could help this lonely person to sort things out, who was she to step aside. Finally they stopped at a wonderful little cottage overlooking the sea with the most spectacular views and some red roses climbing up the white walls. It was almost idyllic. Cuddling her offspring one last time she sighed, said goodbye to Joan and got her case out of the boot. She knew that the door would be open and that she would be awaited inside. Joan felt a lump in her stomach. Hopefully, she hadn't misused Louisa's confidence and hopefully her unpredictable nephew wouldn't do something stupid. Despite that, she plastered a smile and shouted after Louisa "Pick you up on Monday!"

Louisa found the front door, waved to Joan and the child one last time and then entered the door. There were two rooms leading from the doorway. One obviously led to the kitchen, which was empty but smelled wonderful. She entered the other room. Joan hadn't been very specific about her relative, but Louisa certainly hadn't assumed that it was a man in his prime. When she entered, she saw a tall man with his back turned to her, staring through the windows at some spectacular views. His hair was short, but hints of small locks played around his ears. Those ears. No, but it couldn't be, especially as he was wearing chinos and a cardigan. Must be a family thing. Just as she decided to say something, the man turned around and asked in a calm sonorous voice: "Would you like a cup of tea after your long journey?" Louisa's head was spinning.

Martin saw her staring at him, mouth opened, not moving a muscle. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. He felt utterly stupid standing there. Then he saw that she was about to faint and he rushed over to her with a few long steps just before her head could hit the floor. He called her name, but she didn't react just yet. So he picked her up and carried her up the stairs, to her bedroom. Gently he placed her onto the bed, while she opened her eyes.

"Shhh, Louisa. It's OK. You passed out. I'll just check you over and then you can rest a bit."

As she was wildly looking around, he thought he should assure her. "Don't worry, I'm staying in the other room. And for now, if you need something, I'm just downstairs." By now he had checked her over and found nothing uncommon. Must have been the shock.

Martin left the room quietly. Louisa looked around. From her window she could see the sea. Just beautiful. She tried to concentrate on that. The other information was far too disturbing. But her brain could not concentrate on anything else. So it was Martin after all. He was there. After almost two years, just back out of the blue. He certainly had changed. She just compared the image of the man who had left her with the image she had gathered within the few seconds she had been staring at him just minutes ago. She had to admit, he looked dashing. She felt a familiar flutter in her stomach. But what did he want? Why this dramatic entrance? This wasn't like Martin at all. Why hadn't he warned her? Or did he? She remembered his letter a couple of weeks ago, where he had asked to talk things through. She had just ignored this as she had ignored all of his attempts to contact her. It still hurt too much. And talking with Martin generally wasn't a good idea. But usually he never was bold enough to force anything on her. He certainly had changed. She stared out of the window. What was she doing? She asked herself questions, and downstairs was the person who could answer them. If he wanted to.

Reluctantly she got up. She stepped towards the window and admired the scenery. He surely had chosen a beautiful spot. She noticed the flowers and remembered seeing a red rose on the tea tray downstairs. But Martin wasn't romantic. So what was happening? She gathered all her strength and went downstairs. When she entered, Martin jumped to his feet. "Can I have my cup of tea now, Martin?" Quickly he poured her a cup and handed it to her. He cleared his throat. "Eehm. Just wanted to say, I asked Joan to wait in front of the cottage for half an hour, just in case … you didn't want to stay. I hoped that I could have talked to you before, but due to your … inconvenience…there are just a few minutes really. Otherwise I promise I'll take you whenever you want."

"That's nice, Martin. I guess I'll stay a bit. Want to understand first what this is all about, really."

"Good." He made a gesture towards the armchair, waited for her to take a seat and then sat down himself. She just stared at him. Her eyes travelled up and down, stopping at different places to inspect him a bit closer. He felt uncomfortable but wanted to give her time to process the information and compose herself. He could hear the engine start. Joan was driving off. There were just the two of them within a couple of miles.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"You look…different." He looked bashfully down at the table.

"Don't you like it?" He dreaded the answer. But he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Does it matter?" He looked straight at her now. _Of course it did, what did she think!_

"Of course it does."

"Thought there might be someone else. Someone you changed for."

"Oh Louisa, there could never be anyone but you. You know that, don't you?" He sighed, but in Louisa's head, the image of Edith in his kitchen popped into her mind.

"Didn't seem that way last time I saw you." Martin was genuinely puzzled. He definitely didn't know what she was aiming at.

Louisa could see his irritation and helpfully added "Edith?" The penny dropped.

"But that's been over since medical school!"

"When I last saw you together, you were definitely practising in Portwenn."

"But that was purely professional. You can't possibly think…"

"Yes, and you went to London, where she was returning to."

"But I never saw her there, honestly I didn't. Except…"

"EXCEPT WHAT?"

"Well, she called in the first week. Told her I didn't want to see her. Suddenly she turned up on my doorstep. Never could take 'no' for an answer."

"So?"

"I slammed the door. Into her face, literally, I'm afraid. Was too quick for me. Was already on her way in before I noticed. She never turned up afterwards. HONEST!"

"So how come you look so…"

"I Thought I ought to change." He reached out for her hand that now, as she had finished her cuppa, was resting on the table. "Look. We have to talk."

"If you want to go over those financial arrangements again, you can stick it up your…" Louisa remembered the last times he wanted to talk to her. It was always about money. As if he could buy her off. But she was silenced by Martin.

"No! Nothing like that. I want to…explain."

"Explain what?"

"Well, maybe why I'm so difficult. Why you're here. Everything."

Louisa was taken aback. He wanted to talk? About himself? Free-willingly? "You sure have changed." A shy smile crossed Martins face. To have something to distract him, he noticed the empty cup and offered some more tea and biscuits. Louisa accepted thankfully.

"Let's start with why I'm here, then." He told her how he had tried to ask her officially with his letter, but when he never received any response, he simply had to find a way.

"Don't be angry with Joan for being my ally. I persuaded her. If you're angry, be angry with me. I simply had to talk to you. "

"After almost two years? You took your time."

"Yes it took some time. I had to get ready to do so."

"For almost two years? You had something better to do, and just filled me in on a long weekend." He swallowed. He had to explain, but to do so he had to tell her. He hated to admit to it. She would be the first one to know. But how else could he explain. He made some controlled breaths to think straight. _Apply your brain before your mouth._ She was waiting for an answer. Yes, he had to admit, even if it might sound pathetic.

"I had to do a therapy first."

Louisa stared in disbelief. She didn't quite understand what he meant exactly.

"Were you ill?"

"No. Nothing of that sort. You know…psychotherapy?"

That didn't sound like Martin at all. All this _psychological clap-trap._ Now it was Louisa's turn to stare in silence. Martin didn't know what to say. So he poured some more tea.

"How come?"

"Just by accident, really. Colleague of mine at the Imperial – the hospital where I work. We worked together on a trauma case, someone crushed in a car accident. Horrible injuries. I was responsible for stitching him together, and Whitby was there to ensure he didn't go crazy while I was doing so. He noticed that there was something wrong with me. He joined me during night shift, when I was on call. Started to talk to me. Gradually he went deeper. At some point I threw him out." Louisa smiled. That sounded more like Martin, after all. "He said, he'd be there for me whenever I felt ready. Something could be done, if I was willing to put in the effort. It took me some weeks, but one day I found myself in his office."

Louisa stared at him in disbelief.

"Why did you do it? Your 'blood thing'?"

"Got cured on the way, really. But I wouldn't have gone through it for that."

"What else?"

Martin swallowed. This would sound soppy. But he wanted to be honest. "I wanted to be able to talk to you. Wanted to be worth having a child."

"But you left ages ago. I thought you had forgotten all about us?"

Martin couldn't answer that. There were no words for it. No words he knew, anyway. So he just looked at her. She could see the hurt in his eyes. Yes, he had changed. He looked thoroughly sad and exhausted.

"You never made an effort to be a father really."

"Didn't think I had a right to. And to be honest, you never answered any of my letters."

She felt some sort of guilt. She had ignored his letters. She just had supposed he had written out of some sense of duty. She never even considered that he truly meant it. And it had offended her, that they were always accompanied by money. Now, looking into his eyes she knew that he was serious about it. Dead serious. It was good that he had forced her to meet him eye-to-eye.

Some more silence. He was still holding her hand. He had gently started to stroke it. That was something she had missed. The quiet tenderness, that didn't expect anything more. All the other men she had dated in her life felt at some point they had a right to ask for more. Martin always accepted what she was willing to give. But now she had to get up. She could think better when she was standing up. So she took her hand away – he accepted that without hesitation – and went over to that window. The views were marvellous. He wanted to give her space, and stayed were he was.

After a couple of minutes, her back spoke to him. "Was it very tough?"

"What was?"

"Therapy."

"Hell."

"Did he get anything out of you?" He could hear her smile in her voice.

"Gradually. Never was much for talking, as you know."

"That's why it took so long."

"Among others."

"How long?"

"Over a year, really."

It was going better, than he had hoped for. At least they were talking.

She found his presence soothing. She couldn't think straight yet. She always felt wildly attracted to him, and today was no different. Especially… She turned around. He had his back towards her, so she felt free to watch him closely. Hell, he looked handsome. But she didn't want to get carried away. There were too many open questions. And she had to process all this information that didn't sound like Martin at all.

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

To get to safer ground she said in a lighter tone. "So what are your plans for the weekend then?"

"Well, as I said. Mainly I want to sort things out with you. I simply have to find out where I stand. Oh yes, and I prepared something for supper. Hope you like fish crusted with vegetables?"

"Sounds lovely."

"And if you like, we can go for a walk. There are some lovely paths around here. Weather permitting. – Oh yes, and don't worry, we both have our own rooms. Not that you think I…eeeh… But we have to share the bathroom, though. Hope, that's not a problem."

"No. That's fine. How about having a look around the garden, eh?"

Martin got up, checked if he had the key and then gestured towards the door. Silently they walked out. Martin took care to slow down, not to rush her. "This is beautiful. You picked a very nice spot." He felt his colour rising and looked down. _Some things never change_, Louisa thought, _thankfully_. She took his hand into hers and walked towards the cliffs. It felt so good to feel him.

It felt so good to feel her. He thanked his lucky stars that he had gone for it. Even now, it was already worth it. He was thankful that she didn't want to talk right now. He had to recover from all the confessions he had already made. It was so hard to say those things out loud. But after all, that was what he had come down for.

Without really planning to, they started to stroll along the cliff path, still holding hands. The scenery was marvellous, and it felt good not to be alone. After quite some time, Martin said "Better go back, it's getting late." She sighed but had to agree that it made sense. Quietly, they returned to their little cottage. Louisa had at first dreaded the thought of being with Martin for a few days in a row. Now she could see that there was a lot of sense in it. They didn't have to rush to come to the point. No way that they could be interrupted at some crucial moment. And no way that she could run away to avoid being hurt. She had to admit that what he had told her so far was quite flattering. But she still could not imagine that he had done all of that just for her. Surely, there must be more to it.

They arrived back at the cottage. "I'll put the supper into the oven." Martin offered.

"Can I help somehow?"

"No. I've prepared everything. I just have to pop it into the oven, but it will take some time until it's fully cooked, I'm afraid."

"That's fine. As long as it won't be after your carbohydrate curfew." She added with a smile.

"That'll be alright for once, I suppose."

He popped the fish into the oven. The potatoes have to wait a bit. Then he joined Louisa in the lounge.

"I'm glad you stayed."

"Me too."

"You haven't changed, you know. Still beautiful."

She had been standing with her back to him. Now she turned around, and they were facing each other just inches apart. A long pause.

"And you're more handsome than ever." She reached out her hand and stroked it through his hair above his ears. She had felt like doing so since first coming into the lounge, but had restrained herself until now. It felt so soft. She liked the feel of it. He closed his eyes and sighed. That was soooo good. He opened his eyes and stared into hers. She was still running her fingers through his hair.

"Feels nice. How come you let it grow a bit? Are there no hairdressers in London?" She teased him.

But he didn't feel like answering in a teasing way. She could see that he was dead serious when he answered: "I remembered how you used to run your hands over my hair. You seemed to like doing so. Thought, you might like it a bit longer. If you think it's silly, it can be easily changed."

"No, you don't look silly at all. But surely that's not just for me."

"Well, actually…."

"You made quite an effort to impress me." She still couldn't believe it. "So, the clothes, too?"

"Bought them last week. You told me once you wanted to see me out of that suit."

"Do you remember everything I ever said?"

"Some things painfully, though."

She couldn't help but give him a tender kiss on his cheek. For almost two years she had thought that he simply couldn't be bothered. But now she realised, that she had never really asked him. That she had shut every door for him, first because she had thought that he had replaced her with Edith, secondly because she still hadn't forgiven him for what he had said when she turned up pregnant. Well, she was to tackle that later. This moment was too nice to spoil it.

He didn't dare to make any physical contact at all. Everything within him was calling out for her, but he didn't want to rush things. He couldn't risk losing control. Not when everything was going so well for now. He also was desperate to ask about the child. But he would tackle that later. No need to rush.

A certain pleasant smell was approaching from the kitchen and awakened him from his reveries. "I'd better put the potatoes on, I suppose." He hated to say that as it meant that she had to stop running her finger through his hair, which she hadn't stopped doing until now.

He went to the kitchen, checked the fish and vegetables and put the potatoes on. When he returned to that lounge, she was sitting in the armchair.

He sat down opposite her. Having to relax from all that heart-to-heart talk he strained his brain for some simple conversation.

"And how are things going? Still head teacher in Portwenn?"

So they caught up with their life facts while waiting for their supper to be ready. None of them tackled any serious topics. That could wait for later.

He laid out the table, and then served supper. She always liked how he spoilt her. There were not many men around who regarded cooking as part of their courting. And she had to admit, Martin was rather a good cook. During his meals, Martin never had much conversation, so it was mainly eaten in silence. When he cleared the plates away, he had forbid her to help or do the dishes, she suggested that they sit outside for a while, to watch the sunset. He never saw a point in watching the sunset, but sitting with Louisa, no matter watching what, was enough to make him agree. So he did the dishes and joined her outside. After a while, she took his hand in hers quietly. They sat there in silence for the rest of the evening. She watched the sunset, he watched her. She felt his eyes on her, but remembering the concert, when he had stared at her in the same way, and always seemed embarrassed when she had looked at him, she withstood the notion to turn to him. He should have his time to stare at her. She remembered how touched she had been, when he confessed way back then, intoxicated for the only time she knew him, that all he did, every day, was try to catch a glimpse of her. Well, almost two years absence meant there were more than 500 glimpses that he had missed, supposing that he would just catch one a day. He had a lot to catch up.

Martin couldn't take his eyes off her. She was so beautiful. And she hadn't been angry with him once today. Maybe the therapy did the trick after all. There were a lot of things still to discuss, but the way she had reacted so far was promising. Honestly, his main worry had been that she would be screaming at him the moment she passed the door and leave immediately. The moment she had accepted the first cup of tea, his worst worries had been over. For the first time he could see some attraction in the sunset. He studied the effect the changing light had on her. How her eyes changed, and her wonderful pale skin. How he longed to touch it. But that was not for him. Not yet. A smile crossed his face, but he forbade himself immediately to get his hopes too high.

After the sun had given way to the darkness, Louisa finally turned to him. "It was a rather exciting day. I'm tired." With that she got up, placed a light kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight. See you in the morning."

"Goodnight. Yes. See you tomorrow." He followed her inside. While she was climbing up the stairs, he locked everything, double-checked every door and window, tidied up downstairs, turned out the lights and then made his way to his little room himself. Another evening when he stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, but, oh so different emotions! She was here. Just on the other side of the wall. They still had a long way to go, but he was pleasantly surprised by those first steps. Finally he dozed off.

On the other side of the wall, Louisa was laying in bed, looking out of the window, over the night sea. She had to sort things out in her head. Everything had happened so quickly today. This morning she'd gone to school as usual, with the prospect of spending the weekend running through some rubbish for some elderly relative of Joan's, that's how she had interpreted 'sorting out things for some relative of mine'. But in the end, Joan had spoken the truth like the oracle of Delphi – you always understood it the wrong way. And now, Martin was just a few metres away. But was it the Martin she knew, she still loved? So much had changed. Nevertheless, he still seemed to be the same, somehow. The most disturbing thought was that she found herself falling for him all over again. No. She had to sleep now. Tomorrow would bring lots of new surprises. She was excitedly looking forward to it.

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

When she woke up the next morning, she heard Martin fumbling around in the kitchen. After staying in bed for a few more minutes, she finally got up, took her shower and headed downstairs. Martin rushed out of the kitchen.

"Morning. Breakfast needs just a few minutes more. Like some tea while you wait?"

"Morning, Martin. No thanks. I'll wait for you. Can I help?"

"No! No. Just go through and sit down." As she did so, she was wondering why the table in the lounge wasn't laid out already, but didn't want to say anything. When Martin came in, he held two plates with cooked breakfast, and was heading outside with them when he noticed her sitting at the table. Disappointment could be seen on his face.

"I laid out the table outside. Sorry. Just presumed you'd like to… Like that horrid supper that was ruined by your new obnoxious neighbours. So I thought… I'll just get everything in, then."

"No, Martin. Wait. I just didn't think you would ever want to have breakfast there. I'd like that." And touching his hand slightly, she got up to take one of the plates, to carry it outside.

"Maybe we have to get used to talking more, and guessing less. Seems we're both not very good at it." Louisa smiled at him.

He had been so right. It was so _perfect_ to have breakfast among those roses with the view of the sea. She really couldn't complain. He also had a different casual outfit, some chinos with a shirt that was matching perfectly. She liked that casual look. He even looked better than in that dream about the picnic she once had. He was looking over anxiously, trying to read her expressions. Finally, he asked. "Sleep well?"

"Thanks, perfect. The room has a beautiful view."

"Glad you like it."

"Do you mind taking a walk down to some beach after breakfast? I'd like to stretch my legs."

"No! No! That's fine. Good." Here he was again, too eager to please her, his light blue eyes widely opened and staring at her, lost for words to assure her. She sighed happily. At least he hadn't changed completely. That would have been really disturbing.

Martin just noticed the sigh. "Is anything wrong?" He asked, beginning to panic inside and started concentrating on his breathing, as Whitby had taught him.

"No, everything's fine." She smiled at him, he noticed relieved. "I'm just glad that I recognise you at least some of the time."

A questioning look from him made her assure him. "Everything's fine, really."

After they had finished breakfast, she persuaded him to leave washing up for later, and they headed down the cliff path once more. Walking beside each other, they hardly spoke. He had to concentrate so that his long legs didn't cover too much distance, so that she could keep up with him. She just breathed in the beautiful scenery, and his presence. After walking for about an hour, Louisa waved to some secluded beach below. "Shall we go there? Rest a bit?" He followed willingly. When they reached the sandy beach, she took off her shoes and socks and walked barefoot along the beach. She looked over at Martin, prompting him. "Come on. Take your shoes off. Feels great."

"Don't know. It's a bit dirty, isn't it?" Louisa still looked at him, invitingly. Reluctantly, he bent down to take shoes and socks off, too. At least, Louisa seemed pleased. While she had her shoes and socks in one hand, she took his free hand in the other, and, holding hands, they strolled barefoot through the sand. At an especially beautiful spot, where you could see the beach, sea and even part of the green and pleasant land surrounding the area, Louisa stopped. Martin did so too. She smiled at him broadly. "Let's sit down."

"Here? In the sand?"

"Problem with that?"

"No. No. If you think so."

"I do." She sat down, and reluctantly he joined her. He had so many things on his mind he knew had to be discussed, but again, he thought the moment too valuable to spoil it. He waited for Louisa to enquire further. Louisa looked at Martin in front of the backdrop of this beautiful landscape and felt the full flush of love she still felt for him. So she bent over, coming to rest on her knees and leaned in for a kiss. But this time Martin surprised her.

"Louisa, please…Don't."

"WHAT?"

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"I'm really sorry. But I don't think I can go through this again. Not if I will lose you again in the end. And before you get involved with me again, you must know something."

Louisa let herself fall back again, facing him. Her first anger was now replaced by something else. Worry. He definitely sounded solemn now. But she kept silent. Waiting for him.

He swallowed hard, clearing his throat. He looked her straight in the eye. "There is something you must know. There is something wrong with me, that can't be fixed."

"You're ill? Seriously?" No, that wasn't fair. She didn't want to lose him again.

A shy smile on his face. "Not ill, really. In therapy, Whitby – that was my therapist- "

"Yes, you mentioned."

"Well, he did some tests. He was suspicious about something, and in our conversation he sneaked in some question of some ridiculous check list and as a final test, he gave me some pictures where I had to mark what didn't fit while he was timing how long it took. I complained about these 'child games', but he was unimpressed, he insisted. In almost no time I had found all of the odd things. And that is the problem."

"You're a clever and attentive observer. What's the problem?"

"Obviously, there are certain conditions where these patterns spring to the eye extremely quickly. And I was significantly faster than the norm."

"I still don't see, what's so bad about it?" Louisa was genuinely puzzled. She already knew that Martin was very quick in picking signs up, that's why he was so surprisingly good with his diagnoses. She couldn't see why it concerned him.

"Fact is, together with the results from the questionnaire, it was quite obvious that I…I'm afraid I have- Asperger syndrome." He paused. Looking for Louisa's reaction. But she still looked at him puzzled.

"And that means what, exactly. Never heard of it, sorry. Is it that bad?"

Martin sighed. He had hoped, against hope that she would know, so that he wouldn't have to explain. He was spared nothing. But he knew that she had to know. It was just fair.

"Depends how you look at it really."

"Physical danger?"

"No. Nothing like that. It has no effect on my expectancy of life. I've lived with it since my birth, but the point is, I will also live with it until I die. There is not much that can be done about it."

"See, it means - Let's start the other way around. Normally, when a child is born, it can instinctively read facial expressions and body language. During early childhood, it can establish empathy, meaning that by seeing others, you can deduce their feelings. Even further in development, they learn how to affect the feeling of others by their own behaviour – the basis really for flattering people, or for lying."

"See, I don't have these instincts."

He again waited for some response. But Louisa still hadn't understood what that meant exactly.

"So? Sorry if I sound stupid, but I still can't see the problem?"

"Yes, you _can_ see the problem. I would say it's the main problem between us from the start."

"See, I don't see early signs of when I'm upsetting you. I can't predict which effect my words and deeds will have. The reactions of others are a blank canvas for me. And it's not just carelessness, as many people suspect. It's a physical inability. I simply don't see it."

"Oh." Louisa got an idea of what he was aiming at. All these ruined moments, all those inappropriate remarks – weren't his fault, after all. At least not more so, than the fault of an epileptic suffering a fit. "And there is nothing that can be done?"

"Well, Whitby trained me to read some facial expressions and body language. So basically, I connect facial expressions to emotions like I connect symptoms with diseases. It's like training a dog, really." He cringed at the thought. But basically, that's what it was.

"Problem is, it will never come naturally to me. It might have if my _lovely_ parents would have been more considerate and had done that training as part of my up-bringing. But shutting me away under the stairs didn't really help. Neither did sending me to boarding school. Too many people. All those different faces just confused me. And that's another problem. I can deal reasonably well with one or, if I really concentrate, two people. But there's no chance for me in big gatherings."

"Another thing that will remain a closed book for me, is foretelling the effects my behaviour has on other people. OK, when something goes wrong I won't do exactly the same again, by sheer learning. But with just a slight variation, I'm back at the starting point. Good thing is, that I really don't know how to lie, either."

"So what would that mean for us? Practically, I mean?" Louisa had listened with interest. Most of it rang true with Martins behaviour. But she still didn't get the idea where it would lead to.

"Well, to start with, I will never be good in crowds. If you would like me to accompany you to some party, or like that fateful concert, I'd best stand around and keep my mouth shut. Chances are I will bugger it up. Too confusing to apply the techniques that Whitby has taught me."

"Then, you will always be at risk that I'll say or do something to you that will offend or hurt you. I don't necessarily mean to, and I might be puzzled when you get angry. To be honest, I still don't quite understand how I made you that angry at the concert that you felt you had to call the whole thing off. I'm not that blind that I didn't notice you ran away from me. And it must have been the thing I said about the perfume. But why it was so offending is still beyond me." He looked guiltily at her. But she smiled and just stroked his cheek.

"Point is, if I do something like that – and I will, don't fool yourself there – you have to explain to me what's wrong, even when you think it should be obvious. It is for you, not for me."

"It is also known, that people with Aspergers have no real sense of humour. Humour is based on realising sublevels or double-meanings. I never see those. No chance. If you tell a joke, you'll have to warn me. I will take it literally, I'm afraid."

"Last, I will never be as romantic as you might have imagined your dream partner to be."

"But the red rose yesterday?" Louisa tried to reassure him.

"I simply read that most people find single red roses romantic, so I did it. Sorry, but I simply can't see it myself. That's the point – I just have to do all those things intellectually and in researching how the _average_ person usually does it, what comes naturally to every Tom, Dick or Harry."

Long Silence. Martin looked at Louisa. That was basically it. In a way, he was even glad that this was in the open now. That was the bit he had to tell her that was the trickiest one. This and the matter about the child of course. But for now she needed time to digest this information.

It took a couple of minutes until Louisa spoke. "So I have to decide if I can live with that. If I can't assure you that this will be OK for me, there is no way that you will allow _physical attention_, to put it that way."

"Sorry Louisa, I can't. Just because I can't empathise with people doesn't mean that I don't feel anything myself. To be honest, I took our break up quite hard and having all those feelings again – I simply can't."

Louisa saw in his eyes that this was but too true. Instinctively she wanted to assure him that everything would be OK, take him into her arms, she could deal with it. But could she? It wouldn't be fair to promise that and then fail in the end. It must have been hell for him to tell her all this. She at least owed him that she thought about her answer thoroughly.

"Martin. You have given me a lot to think about, and I really have to consider all the pros and cons. I thank you for being so honest with me. But why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't know myself until recently. Really."

"But you must have noticed all this?"

"Sure. But I thought it was normal. You just know how _you_ feel and how _you _see the world. You have no clue how others relate to the same impressions. Or do you?"

"Suppose not. You're right. Instinctively you assume that others will see the world the same as you do. Must have been quite a shock."

"Well, that and sort of relief, too. At least it explained a lot."

"Certainly does. You know what, you sit here and enjoy this lovely day, and I'll go for a loooong walk to do some thinking. When I'm ready, I'll pick you up. How does that sound?"

"Sounds fair."

So Louisa put her socks and shoes on and got up. She headed up the hill. She had to get some perspective, and she found it helpful when the scenery supported that. In her head she played with all of this new information. Martin had been right to bring her down here. They certainly had a lot to talk about.

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

She had actually never met his parents when they had visited him, but had heard some rumours that Joan had a major fall-out with her brother. Joan had never spoken about it. But she had assumed that Martin's father was a bit unpleasant, really. Given the new information today, and Martin had been very short on that subject, she came to thoroughly dislike them. In short, they most probably ruined their son's life. Great. She couldn't start to think what a great man Martin might have been, especially what a happy human being, if they had supported him as a child to start with. But she reprimanded herself. There was no use in thinking about what might have been. Martin was who he was. Full stop. The only question was, could she live with that? She really felt bad that she had reservations at all to agree instantaneously. If he had told her that he was diabetic and couldn't share her afternoon teas, she would have had no problems. It would be silly to reject a partner for that! And basically, this was not very different from what Martin had just explained to her. He had a physical condition that could not be treated and so, their lifestyle together would have some restrictions. That was the simple formula. But it wasn't that simple, was it? She looked at all those incidents that had driven her mad under this new light. Would she feel different now, knowing that he wasn't really to blame? If she was honest, she would most probably feel just as hurt and offended as she had then. After all, that was how her normal brain was bound to react. So could there be a solution? If they really wanted to have a chance together, she must train herself not to explode immediately, or he had to learn to ignore those explosions, and after let's say half an hour or so they would need to resume the whole situation. It wouldn't be such an emotional relationship. She had to learn to analyse their whole relationship intellectually. Was she prepared to do it? But then, why did she complain? She would have to analyse her own behaviour towards _one_ person intellectually, while he had to do it all the time. She tried to imagine what it must be like for him. She knew how irritating Martins behaviour was to her sometimes. How she had spent hours wondering about his motives, or trying to figure out what he might do in certain circumstances. And then she imagined a world full of Martins, with her being the only one to feel and react the way she did. She shuddered at the thought. No wonder he looked puzzled so often. No wonder he stared in disbelief at the world. No wonder he scared most people away, so that he didn't have to deal with too many people. This normal world must be quite a hostile place for Martin. In a way, she owed it to him to put her own temper aside and try to be calm and reasonable. Maybe they could really try to avoid each other for about 30 minutes after a quarrel, calm down, think things through and then resume. It sounded manageable. She still felt so much for him. And if he really had worked out that whole weekend intellectually and by doing research, he must have put a hell of a lot of work and thought into it.

He also obviously loved her. She had felt again quite offended when he didn't let her kiss him. She had to stop being so childish. Just let him explain first, maybe that will shed some light on the matter. At least in this case his reason was quite romantic, if you look at it. He took their relationship so seriously, that nothing but the real thing was good enough. No hanky-panky as many men liked, no strings attached. Another thing came to her mind that was a definite plus. He had said that due to his condition, he would not be able to lie. That was quite something, she decided. Especially thinking about her father, who could flatter the birds off the trees with his lies just to hurt you even more afterwards.

And thinking back, sometimes she really had reacted too strongly. Was there really anything that he had done or said that was truly horrible? He had never insulted her, maybe except when he was furious because of that impetigo-business. And if they really could control themselves enough to keep away from each other for half an hour after any situations and then talk things through, there would be no explosions either. But how often he had been just there, helping her – always offering to help. And then, what did it matter that he couldn't verbalise his feelings the way others did? Some were better confessing love they didn't feel than he was with his love that was clearly there. Why did she expect him to talk about it? Because everyone did? But he _wasn't_ everyone. Wasn't that just the reason why she loved him? She paused. Yes, she was ready to go back. It would take a great effort on both sides to make things work and she wasn't prepared to give any guarantees, except that she would try. With all her heart she would. Now she just wanted to be with him. Her thoughts went back to him. How horrible must he feel sitting at that beach alone, not knowing to which conclusion she would come? Looking at it in the cold light of the day, he really was some tragic hero. And she was the only one who could help him. She should be proud of that, really.

She hadn't realised how far she had gone while contemplating, and now every step between him and her was far too much. She started to run. She wanted to be with him now. He should no longer suffer. The hurt in his eyes when he had confessed everything to her was haunting her now. She ran until she finally saw the little path leading down to that beach.

There he was, still sitting as she had left him. She ran down as fast as she could and came up to him from behind. She bent down to him, and then she whispered directly into his ear: "I think we'd better go back." The sound of her voice sounded promising, at least that's what he thought. Probably she wanted to talk about her decision over a cup of tea. So he put his socks and shoes on and they left on the way that they had come.

On the way back, she took his hand into hers, but didn't speak a word. Again, they walked together in silence. But her hand felt good.

_To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

When they entered the cottage, still holding hands, he turned towards the lounge. But she pulled into another direction. He stopped, looked at her questioningly. She nodded towards the stairs. As he didn't react, she fastened her grip and started to climb up. He pulled her back a bit. He had understood now what she was aiming at. It had filled him with shock – and joy.

"Do you _really_ think that's a good idea?"

"The best, trust me."

"But what I've told you?"

"I'm grateful you did. I agree, it won't be easy, but if you control yourself a bit, and I try to be a bit more considerate, we can work out something. At least we know where we stand now, don't we? And a problem known is a problem solved. I know, it's not that easy. And we will have some setbacks. But I'm sure we will work something out in the end. I just want you now."

He swallowed. He hadn't dreamt that on this weekend they would reach that point again. Suddenly it hit him.

"I've got no…protection..with me. Never even dreamt of…"

"Never mind. I can't be conceiving at the moment, impossible from the timing. Don't worry."

"If you're sure."

"Trust me."

Reluctantly he allowed her to drag him up the stairs. When she stepped into her room, he stopped outside the door. He felt that if he passed the threshold, all walls of Jericho would be tumbling down.

"What's wrong? Come in"

"Eehm…need the bathroom first." He remembered that he had sat on that filthy sand, and he didn't feel clean. And he didn't want to hurry into disaster. He broke away from her hand and disappeared behind the door. He took more time than was absolutely needed, and when he came out, Louisa was waiting outside.

"Right you are. Always wash your hands after you have played, that's what I always tell my pupils. And before, too." She added with a twinkle in her eye before she went in. Immediately after the door was shut, it reopened and Louisa's face appeared. "And don't dare to run away!"

He stood where he was. Was that really a good idea? His brain protested strongly, but his whole body was enthusiastic about that prospect. Before his brain had a chance to win the battle, Louisa reappeared, took him by the hand again and gently led him to her bed.

She nodded to make him sit down on the edge.

"Sorry. The trousers are filthy. The sand."

She swiftly gathered a bath towel she had used in the morning to dry her hair and placed it on the duvet.

"So. That goes to the laundry anyway."

Reluctantly he sat down. He was tense now. He swallowed hard. These stupid breathing exercises wouldn't help him now. But another piece of advice from Whitby put his mind at ease. Louisa saw that he relaxed a bit all of a sudden.

"Relaxing now? How come?"

"Just remembered something Whitby had said."

"What?"

"That I have to learn to be the inferior at times."

"Wise man. But don't worry. I've got a feeling you will be quite excellent."

With that she bent down to him and ran her hands through his hair. Doing that, they stared at each other. She could see his eyes filling with lust. She wanted him so badly. He didn't dare to touch her yet. She kept stroking his hair with her left hand, while the other started to unbutton the shirt at his stomach and then slid through it. Bugger, he did wear a T-shirt underneath. So she concentrated on unbuttoning his shirt completely and removed it. Then she gripped the T-shirt and started to pull it over his head. He helped her in putting his hands up, so that this garment was quickly out of the way. She wanted to feel his soft chest. He had such wonderful skin. She started to kiss his cheeks, wandering down over the neck to his chest. One hand was again working in his hair, the other one travelled down his back. He groaned softly. "Oh, Louisa!" He was hot now, she could feel it. But why didn't he touch her? She took his hand and placed it on her waist. His breath was going more rapidly now. She placed her lips on his mouth, feeling him breathe into her, and soon his tongue sought for admission. She opened her lips slightly, and soon his tongue caressed her palatine. His hand had started to slide under her top, heading straight for her breasts. This was too good. Her hands were driving him crazy, especially as one of them had slid under his trousers. His other hand started to pull at her sweater, and she broke from the kiss to allow him to remove her top. While he was doing so, his eyes were fixed onto her, and there she was. The same beauty, the same immaculate figure.

He ran his hands over her ribcage. She was sitting on his lap now, where something had come to life. He could feel the blood pulse in his groins. There was no return now. He tried to kiss her again, but she teased him by putting her head back so that he couldn't reach her lips. He started to kiss her cleavage instead, and he could hear her light giggle. His lips travelled down, while she was holding his neck. He could feel her hips going up and down lightly. He opened the buttons of her jeans and unzipped them. He slid his hand under her underwear. She was warm and wet. While one hand supported her waist, the other ran up and down her thigh, while he still kissed her ribcage. Finally she stood upright and slipped out of her trousers. He firmly pushed her knickers down, and both fell onto the floor. He stared at her, breathlessly. Then she pushed him up to remove his trousers. She slowly ran her fingers down his chest, over his stomach down to that button that was just in the way. She undid it and the zip and the next thing his chinos joined her jeans. They were standing face to face, and one of his hands kneaded her bum cheek, while the other one headed for the bra. He wanted to see those beautiful breasts, wanted to kiss her nipples. Wanted to consume her completely.

While he was removing her last item of clothing, she slid his boxer shorts off. She let herself glide onto the bed, dragging him too, grasping his hand tightly. He followed but too willingly. He buried his face in her neck. He could still smell the sea breeze in her beautiful hair. She ran her hand through his hair. It felt so good. Feverishly their hands were exploring each other, their lips exploring every square inch of their skin. Louisa gripped his hips to draw him closer, he didn't want to rush things. It was too good to be over soon. But Louisa needed him desperately. She was almost mad with desire. It had been more than two years since they had last made love after all, and now that her body had tasted that forbidden fruit, it wanted to have a feast. Finally he entered her, and he was groaning, as was she. They were frantic by now. He started to rock slowly and the old bed seemed to act like a jungle drum. The frantic rhythm of this fertility ritual banged in her head. He held her closer, almost crushing her.

He needed to feel her, not only the wet, velvet warmth of her surrounding him, but he wanted to feel her heart pound against his chest. The groaning and sighing became louder and louder and they uttered noises in perfect unison now. The passion swept over them in waves. Finally, he climaxed and pushed her over the edge in doing so. One loud cry and then they parted. He rolled over onto his right side, so that he could watch Louisa lying next to him. She rolled onto her left, and now they were eye to eye. He was just staring at her, trying to catch his breath. When he had calmed down a bit he reached over and stroked her cheek. He was rewarded by her beautiful smile. She was as happy as could be. She reached over to run her fingers through his hair. Tenderly touching each other, they continued staring into each others eyes. Now, that his brain had started to function normally again, he softly said.

"What is it then?"

"What is what?"

"Your child."

"_Our_ child."

"_Our _child" he smiled. "Is it a boy? I always felt certain it would be. Silly really."

"Actually, it is a boy."

"Really? Amazing,"

"Didn't you know?"

"You never told me."

"You never asked."

"Didn't dare to. You declared so firmly that I had nothing to do with the child."

"Sorry."

"No. You just had to do what you thought was best."

"What do you mean '_What's best'_"

"I thought you wanted to protect the child. I always knew you'd be a good mother."

"Protect? Protect from what?"

"Me?"

"Silly" She placed her other hand on his cheek. She never thought he could have taken it that way. They most certainly hadn't talked enough in the past. "Just assumed you didn't want to be bothered. I don't think you ever planned to be a father."

"I know you knew I wouldn't be good at it."

"Nonsense."

"Do you think I can see him sometime? When you feel ready? He doesn't even have to know who I am. I just want to see him, really." He was pleading. It twisted her heart. She would never have guessed.

"'Course you can see him. Why not?"

"You don't think I would do him any – harm?"

"You never harmed anyone. Why should you?" She got a feeling of how desperate he was. And she felt guilty, because her thoughtless behaviour during her pregnancy had empowered his natural insecurity.

"It's just that my father ruined _my_ life. I don't want to do that to him."

There were no words for the unjustified guilt he felt. So she pulled him close and took him into her embrace. She stroked his hair, as one would do to comfort a child, and rocked him in her arms. She felt protective like a mother. She was to blame that he was begging now for a glimpse of his child. This man could be so silly at times.

Being cradled by her like this was very soothing, even when it didn't feel right. He was no child anymore. Not that anyone had taken him into their arms when he had been a child. He had felt that he had started to cry, and Louisa must have sensed that, too, as she was cradling him until his tears had subsided. But for once, he didn't feel ashamed. He felt weak in this moment, but that's how it was. Louisa didn't seem to be bothered either. After he had calmed down, he drew back to face Louisa again.

"Does he look like you? I always hoped he would."

"Actually, he's the spitting image of you." Louisa smiled.

Martin was honestly shocked. "Poor chap."

"Well, I don't complain." Louisa reached over once more to put her hand on his head. "Now just sleep, it was a very hard day for you."

With this she cuddled into him, and soon they both slept soundly for the first time in months.

Martin slowly woke up. He still could feel a smile on his face. This time it hadn't been just a dream. This time it was real. He reached over to the other side of the bed. Nothing. There was no one! His hand searched desperately for Louisa. That couldn't be true! It had been real! Or was it… He heaved his head up and searched the room. There was no one but him. He really could have sworn. He slumped back onto the cushion. "Oh no!"

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Louisa heard Martin's yell from the bathroom. She had just finished her shower and rushed towards the bedroom. "Is anything wrong, Martin?" He opened his eyes and stared at her. She watched him relax. Was there even a smile?

"No. Nothing, Louisa. Everything's _perfect_." He sighed, relieved. So it hadn't been just another dream after all. She was there. He smiled at her, wrapped in her dressing gown, hair dripping. He felt at home.

"But I heard you shouting."

"Everything's fine now." He reached out to her "Now that you are here."

"Don't tell me that you were missing me already?" She teased him.

"Actually, I was." By now he had got one of her hands and pulled her towards him.

"Thank you." He solemnly said.

"Was a _pleasure_." She smiled broadly at him. "We should repeat it some time. But for now, I think we should get something to eat. "

She noticed that he was about to jump out of bed. She firmly pushed him back. "_You _stay in bed a bit longer and then take your shower. _I_ will see what I can come up with. Surely you've got something in the kitchen that I can use to cook us something. And no contradictions!"

He managed to place a light kiss on her cheek before he gave in and sank back down. He watched Louisa dressing herself from the bed. He felt good. Something within him had come to life again.

After Louisa had left the room, he stared out of the window over the sea. He still wasn't sure that it had been right to follow Louisa to her bedroom, but it had been good. He didn't regret. He felt at peace. He had managed to tackle all of the subjects that he had to get off his chest, without infuriating Louisa. And if he didn't misunderstand her, there was a fair chance that he could see his son soon. He hadn't asked for his name, he now remembered. The thought of a child just like him was quite disturbing. He definitely had hoped that Louisa's genes would have won over his.

He could hear her working in the kitchen. He thought that this was how life should be. He got up, took a shower and shaved. He didn't want to take the risk that there would be stubble in case Louisa would touch him again later. He got dressed. Not what he had worn earlier that day as that was covered with sand, but what he had worn yesterday. He felt clean, fresh and alive as he hadn't done in months. He climbed down the stairs to find Louisa busy in the kitchen.

"I decided to go for pasta with fried vegetables and some salad. Hope that's OK?"

"Good, but I'd really rather help you." She pecked his cheek and ran her hands over his chest.

"Almost ready. But maybe you can make some tea?"

They worked together in the kitchen, until all tasks were done. He also did the dishes that were left over from breakfast. Was that really only a few hours ago? So much had happened in between and they still had two full days. Martin counted his blessings.

When they finally sat down to eat on the patio, overlooking the sea, Louisa had to tackle something that had crossed her lust filled brain when they had been _together_ earlier.

"Martin, when you were in London…"

"Yes?"

"I mean – did you look after yourself properly?"

"What do you mean?"

"I noticed, well, while I…when we…" Now it was her turn to feel shy to verbalise it. She sighed. "When I was touching you, earlier – you seem to have lost a bit of weight. A bit too much, I'd say."

He stared at her. So she did worry about him. She shouldn't really. He was fine. _Now_ he was fine.

"Well with all the work and being on my own, I suppose…You might be right. I haven't felt too well lately, either." He added with a smile.

"You need someone to look after you, then?"

"I sure do!.. I mean, if you suggest… only."

She reached over to shut his mouth with her finger. "Shhh. Everything will be fine."

They finished their meal. Louisa insisted that he should take a topping as he would need all of his energy. He cleared the table. He insisted he had been lazy enough with the preparation. She looked out to the sea. It was a beautiful day. Even the weather was at its best behaviour. When he put everything away, he suddenly remembered the wine he had bought especially for Louisa, and then he hadn't even offered her some! He took the bottle and a glass with him.

"Eh, Louisa, …sorry." She turned around.

"Sorry, what for?"

"I…I bought this for you, and then I've totally forgotten about it. It's too late now to have it with the meal, but maybe you would like some?"

She looked at the label, and then to Martin.

"Is it no good? I'm sorry. I don't know much about wine. I shouldn't…"

"STOP apologising. Please. It's just I rarely see such a good wine. It should be enjoyed properly. Will you join me?"

"No. Definitely not. I'd rather stay awake."

"So, you haven't recovered from your last hangover yet? Sorry about that. I had other plans for that night, but it turned out to be the wrong tactic."

"It worked perfectly well in giving me a headache, though."

"Well, that's usually just a side effect. When it's preceded by more pleasurable experiences, it's mostly worth it. Shame was, that you went straight for the headache state."

"I told you, I don't drink. Never did, actually, and after that night, I have certainly never tried it again!"

By now she had settled with her wine, while he was sipping his water.

"For me it was worth it, though." Louisa declared.

"Really?"

"At least I finally got out of you that you loved me. Just when I wanted to give up. Unfortunately also just before you passed out. It could have been a real fun night. You don't know what you missed."

He blushed. "I guess I have a good idea by now, and when I was sober, too."

"I thought it was so sweet of you when you confessed that you just tried to catch a glimpse of me, every day. You're really an extraordinary admirer."

"But I had to pay for it the next morning."

"I'm sorry for the hangover."

"I don't mean that. That ghastly dog!"

Louisa looked at him in astonishment. "What dog? What are you talking about?"

"Surely you heard about it at the time. Pauline's jungle drum had filled the surgery in no time with part-time comedians having fun at my expense!" He still was angry about it. Why could everyone get stoned all of the time and 'have a good time', and it was OK, and if he just had wine in the evening _for once_, it interested the whole village!

The problem now was that Louisa never had heard of it. As everyone knew how she felt about him, they hadn't wanted to raise her anger. She just would have defended him.

Louisa turned towards him. "Sorry, it didn't reach my part of the jungle. What dog?"

Martin realised that he had just given himself away, and he really didn't want to dwell on that unpleasant memory. "Never mind. Doesn't matter anymore."

"Oh no! You can't get me on the edge of my seat and then not give the punch line! There's obviously _something _I have missed!"

Martin shifted uncomfortably on his seat. He didn't know how to get out of this. Feeling the scrutinising look of Louisa on him, he finally gave in.

"Well. I fell asleep at the kitchen table as you well know. The next day I woke up with a headache, on the kitchen floor…and, that _ghastly_ dog that was haunting me everywhere must have found a way into my house that night, and, actually, he was…I mean, I was…my arm that was…"

By now Louisa was giggling.

"THAT IS NOT FUNNY!"

Louisa couldn't help herself, even when he was completely embarrassed about it. She took his hand, looked him in the eye and said: "Actually, Martin - it is." And she kept on giggling.

Martin stood up brusquely. "So much for your sympathy!" He gesticulated broadly now. "And then this ghastly Bert and his oh so funny remark 'Let sleeping dogs lie'" he mimicked Bert. By now, Louisa couldn't help but laugh out loud. He looked at her in disbelief. Why did she do that to him? He had felt deeply humiliated at that time. There was nothing funny about it.

She could see him glare furiously at her. Her laughter slowly subsided as she stood up to walk across to him. In his anger he had paced up and down the patio. "I'm sorry, Martin. But I tried to imagine, you and the dog." She tried hard not to laugh out loud again.

"Don't wreck your brain. I'm sure Pauline still has the photo on her mobile." He grunted. Louisa couldn't help it. It _was_ funny in her book. She touched his sleeve gently. "Don't take it so hard. Just _go with the flow._"

Now he turned directly towards her. He simply had to ask, it had puzzled him all his life, he never understood: "But why is it, Louisa? Everyone else misbehaves for all of their lives - boozing, lying, sleeping around – doing all kind of stupid things really, like that colleague of yours turning up from holidays with a silly tattoo. Everybody's doing it and if anyone notices it at all, they just get sympathy. I always get the laughs."

Louisa could see that he had a point there. There was hardly anyone in the village who didn't have a hangover at least once or twice a month. It always went by unnoticed.

Louisa's laughing fit was silenced now. She started to see his point. And her trouble was she couldn't really answer his question. He was right, it wasn't fair. Her hangover on that same morning wasn't funny, his was. No one had even said a word towards her about her condition, and he had been the object of ridicule. Finally she said, now with definite sympathy in her voice.

"I guess it is because you're always so self-controlled and dignified. You always seem so high above us humble human beings. And when the mighty do fall..."

"But only because I try to do the right thing whenever possible, I'm not allowed to fail anymore?"

"Guess that's what it is. Brutal, isn't it?" Now she could see that for him, there _was_ nothing funny about it. There was more to it than that one morning. It was a general principle running through his life.

"Are you very cross with me, Martin?" She nudged him. "Well, Martin?" She pleaded a bit. He was still struggling with the injustice in the world, and with the fact that she had joined forces with all those oafs. Not with him. But she had seen his point in the end. So he decided to give in.

"I suppose I _did_ look ridiculous that morning. That's why I'm warning you – NO MORE WINE FOR ME!"

She smiled at him while she raised her glass in his direction. "Cheers! And now sit down, relax. It's such a lovely evening."

_To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The routine from the previous night repeated itself. Louisa was watching the sunset, Martin watched Louisa.

"Martin, we should have done this years ago."

"Done what?"

"Have some time for ourselves, just be together, you know. We were always watched. You're far more relaxed here." She looked over to him. "More approachable. Maybe, if we'd done this after your proposal, we would'nt have called off the wedding in the first place."

"Louisa, I think maybe I had to take this detour. Maybe it was for the best in the end."

"You really think so? I say, I'd rather be here with you for our second anniversary now than trying to get together again."

"Yes, but if I had never gone to London, I wouldn't have met Whitby, and I still wouldn't know why the world and I are not on the best of terms."

"Maybe. But just think that this break-up was damned close to being final." She shuddered. It was only the second day, but she didn't want to miss Martin ever again. She looked over at him.

"What would you have done if I had been with someone else in between?"

"But I knew you weren't."

Louisa was a bit hurt by that remark. What made him so sure?

"Oh, so you think no other man will actually find me attractive? Or do you think, after being with you, no other man would be good enough for me. Or what? Actually, I still have some opportunities, if I wanted."

"I know you have _all_ the opportunities, and even when I came to Portwenn the first time I couldn't' believe that someone like you was still available. The men of Portwenn must have been blind or utterly stupid, but I just knew that you hadn't anyone in your life."

"You were bloody sure of yourself."

"No. I had simply asked Aunty Joan."

Louisa felt stupid. "But if she had told you that I had been with someone else. What then?"

"I would have never interfered with your happiness. Trust me, Louisa. That's what's most important to me. If you had found a father for our boy and partner for yourself, I would have never stepped forward. During all this time, when I tried to become the man you deserve – at least as far as I can be anyhow – I was never sure if I hoped you had found someone, and be happy for you; or feared you had found someone, and I'd be simply jealous. But when Aunty Joan wrote me that you still had no one in your life, I thought I'd give it a try."

"And if I hadn't stayed?"

"Then I would have been where I was before. Louisa, I found out that there is one big advantage of having nothing to lose. It doesn't cost you anything to try. You can only win."

She reached over for his hand. He took hers and squeezed it quietly.

"Actually, Martin, I did try to move on. But there was no one good enough. I looked around, and they all were so-" she looked over to him, to speak to him directly "-so average." She smiled. She didn't tell the other part of the truth. They all tried to rush her, to get close too fast. But she correctly assumed that Martin wouldn't like that thought.

"And so you opted for the weirdest person you could possibly find?"

"No. I chose _you_."

Martin looked at her, disbelieving. He cleared his throat." Eeeh… I say it's getting rather chilly out here. Shall I get you something – or shall we go in?" He had to change the atmosphere. It had become quite too tense for comfort.

Louisa sighed sadly. "No Martin. I'm fine."

They sat together in silence again. Louisa wanted to say something, but she didn't want to stir up the water. But it was nagging at her and Martin had suggested himself that she should say clearly what was bothering her.

"Martin, why do you always keep on doing that?"

"What?"

"When I pay you a compliment such as just a few minutes ago. Why do you always have to change the subject? Why do you have to ruin the atmosphere? I just wanted to make clear that you are special to me. What's wrong with that?"

No reply. Martin was thinking. He had to change the subject. He had felt awkward. He was nothing special. Strange, maybe, but not special. He felt uncomfortable when she said things like that, or showed it in any other way.

"I'm not special, really. Maybe odd."

"You _are_ a very special man, as I keep telling you, ever since we have known each other, but you want to hear none of it. You should appreciate yourself more, you know?"

There was no response. She didn't know if her words had fallen on deaf ears, or if he was thinking about it, but it had been a long, exciting day already, and she decided to leave it for the moment.

Suddenly it hit Louisa that Martin had been right. It had become rather chilly. So she went up to go inside. Martin watched after her. "Heading for bed?"

"No. Just going in to get my jumper. It's rather cold now. But the sunset is so nice. I'd rather stay out a bit."

When she passed him he grabbed her hand. "Maybe I have a better solution." He pulled her close, making her sit on his lap while his arms enclosed her completely. This felt nice and warm.

"Sometimes you simply have the best ideas." He was resting his chin on her shoulder, as they watched the sun approaching the horizon. As his mouth was almost touching her ear, he merely whispered when he asked. "Earlier, you know, I forgot to ask what you called him?"

"You're still thinking about your son, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. I'm rather excited to think that I may meet him someday, I had almost given up hope. So what is he called?"

"Peter. Peter Martin Glasson, to be precise."

"So you named him after me, too. Thanks very much. I like that."

"I always thought that he should have your name somewhere. You are his father after all and somehow I feel you may live up to it from now on."

"I'm not sure. I'm not very good with kids."

"I wouldn't say that. Remember that Cronk boy? When his mother was ill, he pestered you until you took over in-loco parentis. He simply admired you."

"It's that where you chose the other name from?"

"Part of it, yes. It was when you saved Peter Cronk that I knew that the crush I had on you since that panel meeting had definitely turned into love. I never wanted to forget that day, and so I thought it would be appropriate if the result of this love would also be my reminder of it. Especially since I thought..:" Martin stopped her speaking it out loud by squeezing her harder. They both sighed.

"So you just fell in love because I saved the boy's life? I was just doing my job, you know?"

"Don't sell yourself short. There was far more to it really. And don't you dare interrupt me. You have to listen to why I love you now, like it or not."

"First you were there for me when I needed you. I only had to call you, even in the middle of the night, and then you were there for me. Even when I had been so ghastly to you earlier about the village discussing your '_blood thing'_. You were absolutely right – it was unforgivable to discuss it over the radio. But you stirred the worst in me. You acted so superior. And your horrid remark about '_you people_', but you were of course above those low notions. I simply felt I had to defend '_you people_'."

"But when you came through that door at the Cronk's, I felt instantly that everything would be alright. I was panicking. I didn't know where to start and I felt guilty as I had caused the problem in the first place. If I had taken Peter's concerns seriously the accident wouldn't have happened at all. I certainly assumed he was exaggerating when he said that doing team games just meant everyone teamed up against him. I thought he just was making too much of it. As it turned out, he was right. But I tried to force Peter to be the same as all the others. He was different, so he had to adjust. That was what I really believed, you know and there I was, knowing darn well that I was to blame. Not knowing what to do, where to start and then you came. Just seeing you calmly attending to your duties. Having both patients in check at the same time. Organising the ambulance and no accusation whatsoever."

Martin tried to point out that this was simply his job, but Louisa silenced him. "You made so many confessions these two days, now it's my turn. I doubt that you realise what a good man you are, and don't worry. You're secret will be safe with me." She smiled and cuddled closer into him.

"I admired you, how you handled everything, organised everyone to help – like it or not. And no one dared to refuse to do as you told them. There is such a natural authority about you and you used it with so much responsibility. Even when the ambulance arrived and the paramedics wanted to take over. You simply brushed them aside, and they let you. They didn't dare to talk back to you and I realised then, that you gave me the strength to force my way in there myself. To keep the promise I had given Mrs. Cronk, not to leave Peter. I don't know, if you hadn't been so bold as to ignore the paramedic, and if he had declared in no uncertain terms that I couldn't go in there, I don't think I would have insisted. You gave me the strength and I also trusted you, that if it was foolish what I was doing, you would have stopped me.

I knew, when you said it was alright, then it was."

"Then, Peter wanted to know the truth. He trusted you completely. He forced me to acknowledge what everyone was holding against you – everyone was telling lies all the time, but you, you spoke the truth. Even if it wasn't easy for you. Even if the others didn't want to hear. I know that I would have simply assured him that everything would be alright, and that it was most probably not as bad as it seemed. Just chose the easiest way, really. I could see that you took his request seriously. You didn't like what you had to tell, and you thought carefully before you started. You showed such a caring and sensitive side; it really took me by surprise. It was so – so unlike you. I realised, that we all had misjudged you, maybe because of the convenience to make you look bad, so that we don't have to take your criticism seriously.

You didn't scare him, but explained to him all the dangers and didn't play it down. And when you assured him that he would be alright '_if I have anything to do with it_', it wasn't just talk. I knew you would do _everything _in your power to help him. I could see the paramedic cringe at your words, obviously thinking you were merely arrogant but I knew you weren't boasting. Just committing yourself to the boys health."

"You surprised me again when you apologised to Peter. It was heartfelt. You were serious about it. For most of us, apologising is simply a gesture, easily done, but you really felt sorry and asked for forgiveness. You asked a child to forgive you. It didn't matter who he was. You knew you'd made a mistake, and now you were going to do everything in your power to ensure that Peter didn't have to pay the price for it, and Peter seemed to understand you immediately.

I had never seen you in a conversation like this. With most people the conversations with you soon became battles, me included. But Peter seemed to understand how you felt, that it wasn't entirely your fault, and you could connect with him. I realised that you two had a lot in common. I thought maybe I caught a glimpse of you as a child – extremely intelligent, very responsible for that age, and rewarded by being bullied, teased, mistreated and left out. And the only thing we could do was trying to force you back in line, to be _normal_, no matter the consequences as I had done with Peter.

It gave my heart a twist when he quoted me, about letting them tease you. What right did I have to expect him – or you –to accept being ridiculed just because you were so much more mature, so much more intelligent than us, to take the blame for us feeling inferior? Why couldn't we just accept that you were different – special? It really made me think."

"That's why I decided that it was time to hear your side of the discussion about your '_blood thing_'. I realised the whole village had a ball discussing it, but no one – including me – really found it necessary to ask you, to give you a chance to explain. It was not really a discussion at all, but – as you had correctly accused us of – gossip."

"Your first response was so typically you. '_A minor anxiety disorder brought on by an overexposure in a high-pressure environment_'. It sounded so – as if you weren't involved. It kept anyone away, as it was so detached. But I felt so privileged when you told me about that woman. I could see then – and it was so painfully clear – how _deeply_ you felt, in fact, how extremely responsible you were, how sensitive. I could hardly believe it."

"It dawned on me, that you had to look at your patients as _cases_ just to protect yourself, to be able to function in your job. In fact, you felt _too much_ to be able to allow yourself to show it, not as everybody thought that you had no feelings at all. It hit me then and I looked at you in a new light. And then this incredible sadness in your voice when you declared that operating on people was '_the only thing I was ever any good at'_. Where was that pompous arse that everyone had taken you for? Here I saw an incredibly insecure, humble person, who didn't realise what an extraordinary man he really was. It nurtured the urge within me to prove to you that you were in fact a _very_ special person. I wanted you to be able to appreciate yourself, to see for yourself how worthy you were. In fact, I still do. I haven't succeeded so far, have I?"

"And still having all this on my mind, things got worse. Peter really was on the verge of not making it. You were desperate. I always thought when the ambulance came that they would take care of the patient. If you hadn't forced yourself into the ambulance, Peter would have been taken to the mortuary when he had reached Truro. This paramedic was simply doing his job by the book, monitoring the boy's condition. He didn't do anything more. Although it wasn't your job, you started to think about every possibility, even when it meant pushing yourself to the limit. I had realised then that you never thought about yourself first, always put yourself last. Even when no one noticed that. I carefully paid attention afterwards to check this theory. It is really true. You always try to do the right thing, no matter how much it costs you. I remember your desperation when you had realised that there was no other way but operating yourself. I could see the contrast between the two medical staff in that ambulance – the paramedic and you. Only you cared about the patient."

"The paramedic was an inefficient oaf."

"I said, don't interrupt! Your solemn but quiet declaration '_I may vomit_' clearly apologising in advance for the weakness you had acquired simply by caring too much for your patients. You really felt ashamed, didn't you? And I felt so proud of you. To put your own well-being aside for Peter's sake, to surpass your handicap for the good cause. I know that you felt it was a weakness, but for me you were stronger and more – yes, heroic – just because of your '_blood thing_'. I couldn't even imagine what it must have meant for you to hold your fingers in the wound until we reached Truro, just because the staff of the ambulance couldn't be bothered to attend to their equipment properly. It seemed to me then – and many times afterwards – that you tried to make up for the mistakes of all humanity. And if you grew impatient in your battle against inadequacy, people were cross with _you_."

"Finally at the hospital, when there was nothing that you could do anymore, because Peter was wheeled into the operating theatre, I grabbed your hand – I simply had to feel you at that moment. You, realised that you were covered in blood and withdrew your hand, almost as if apologising for being so dirty. You know, you apologise far too much. Sometimes I feel that you want to apologise for simply being there, for being alive, really."

Martin cringed inwardly. She really understood him better than anyone else ever had. He thought about how his so-called parents had implemented the firm belief within him that he was a nuisance, a waste of space, a complete failure and superfluous. Even when his mother had declared during her last visit that he had destroyed her life, he had apologised, feeling guilty and hurt, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to open another can of worms.

"And you stayed, the whole night you stayed, although there was nothing that you could possibly do. Although your job was done. No one could have blamed you if you just returned home. It would have been the natural thing to do, really, but you cared, you _really_ cared about Peter. You wanted to be there. I remember how great it felt to rest my weary head on your shoulder. You were so strong. Strong for me, I felt. But there was something else. I realised that I was truly physically attracted to you. I felt the urge to touch you, to feel you. I felt better when I did."

"Then the last revelation that day. That fateful, wonderful day. When this young doctor, this arrogant arsehole, first bragged about how he liked that, gratitude. It had been you, who saved the boy. They should have been grateful to you! He had a whole team to support him. But to top it, he took real pleasure in winding you up, making it crystal clear that it was him that had made the situation in the village impossible for you. Spreading your '_blood thing_'. Even thinking that he had been particularly clever and clearly pleased with himself. I was _furious_. And you – you didn't defend yourself at all! You seemed even a bit relieved that at least you understood now how this whole business had come up. Why couldn't you stand up against him? Defend yourself? Show him what a sorry little excuse of a doctor he really was? No, you swallowed it."

"I bet you had swallowed too many insults like that before. Maybe you were worn out by fighting those injustices? It took some time for me to realise how outrageous this was. After all you've done, how brilliant you've been, for him to take the credit and top it off in humiliating you. How could you bear it and not even say a word? This wasn't fair! When we reached the taxi I decided that I had to defend you. I realised you weren't capable of fighting for yourself. I wanted to be there for you. Fight for you. I realised that my spirits were still flying high, while you were – yes, maybe a broken man, putting on a brave face, not to show the world how vulnerable you are. That's why I made you wait in the taxi. I never told you, but I went back to find this young arsehole. He even had the nerve to start flirting with me! Him! He really thought he was irresistible. You should have seen his face when I told him that he was the very last person I ever wanted to be involved with and that, if he _ever_ dared to do anything against you again, he would most certainly wish we had never met at all. You, who are ten times the man he could ever be."

Martin gasped. He had no idea! He felt a hot flush shivering over his body. Was it possible that anyone could see him _that_ way? In his book, he had only done his job, felt lucky that Louisa had fallen asleep on his shoulder and had given up being angry about people like Pitts, as they were crawling around like locusts at harvest time. Louisa noticed his astonishment.

"You never knew, do you? But I don't think this imbecile ever harmed you again, or did he?"

"Never heard of him again. But Louisa, you really shouldn't have…"

"Shouldn't have defended you? I surely had to. I guess I should have done so more often."

"On the way home, in that taxi, I wanted to tell you how I felt. Felt about you. But you were so aloof and monosyllabic. I didn't know where to start. I hoped that when I talked about Peter, how I realised that we have to accept him as being special, that it was good that he was different, that we really loved the Peters of this world for this; I hoped you would draw the connection between him and you. That it was _you_ I loved for being special."

"I placed my hand for you to reach it, to hold it. Most men would have jumped at that opportunity. This arsehole doctor certainly would have. I could see you were stiff, disbelieving, unsure about the situation, not daring to hope that you had come to the right conclusion. It took ages! You were so wonderfully shy and awkward. You, who had so brilliantly saved a boys life, was now struggling to touch the hand of a woman who actually offered her affection. It simply didn't make sense. I thought your awkwardness was quite sweet, actually. But as I found out with time passing by that it never wore off, it became quite infuriating. What was it? Didn't you think you were worth it? Was it just bloody insecurity? I mean I couldn't have been more specific about wanting you to touch me, could I? Then, when you finally found the courage to touch me at all, it was just so gentle. Almost apologising, again. You hardly dared to touch me. I always felt, even when you were rather…rather…inept, really…in creating romantic situations, you should make a step towards me first. I didn't want to push you, take over, even when it was hard work sometimes to get you going. Always so restrained. But then again, if you can get into the mood, you're surprisingly passionate."

"You're a good lover, do you know that? Even that first kiss in the taxi, after we had broken apart – when you stared at me in disbelief. When we kissed again, you were quite…Well, at least I liked it. When you kiss me, I can forget everything. The world simply ceases to exist. I never felt anything like that before. You seem to be so desperate in your lovemaking. As if you're drowning and clinging to someone to save you. It always seems to be a matter of life and death. You don't take it very lightly. Made me feel special."

"And that's why I called our son Peter. Whenever I call him, talk to him, I remember that night. I remember why I fell in love with you. Not the ruined opportunities and the way you withdrew from me out of fear."

It was pitch dark now, and he still held her in his arms. He didn't feel comfortable with her declaration of love. He never felt comfortable when anyone ever said anything positive about him. He always felt that he had to protest. He was far more at ease with insults.

They both sat in silence for quite some time. There was nothing for her to say anymore. There was nothing that he could say.

After a while, he noticed that she started to doze off slowly. "Don't you think we better go upstairs? You're tired." He whispered into her ear. Speaking loud didn't seem right when only the sound of the waves were to be heard. She sighed. It was so cosy in his arms, but of course she couldn't be sitting on his lap all night. She reluctantly heaved herself up.

"I'll check everything downstairs. Just go to bed and rest." He offered. She willingly accepted.

After she had attended the bathroom and sank onto the pillows, she could hear him come upstairs and going to the bathroom himself. She had already dozed off, but subconsciously noticed him leaving the bathroom and passing by, but he didn't come in.

"Martin?"

"I thought you were already asleep. Sorry for disturbing you."

"Where _are_ you going?"

"To bed." He was puzzled. What did she think?

Sleepily she got her head up to look towards him and had opened her eyes with much effort. "You're not serious, are you?"

"What?"

"You're not heading to that spare room, are you? I peeked in when I went downstairs this afternoon. It's tiny! I doubt you can squeeze yourself in at all."

"That's alright. I'll manage."

"You're coming into this bed immediately. And don't you dare argue. I'm far too tired. So shut up and get in here!" With that she rolled resolutely to her side.

Martin felt uncomfortable. In fact, they only ever had shared the bed for one simple reason. They had never shared a bed before when there had been nothing on their mind but sleep. He had been so adamant before this weekend not to push her. But she had told him to join her in no uncertain terms. He simply wasn't sure.

"Come now! I wanna sleep!" She impatiently shouted. So he gave in and trotted towards the bed. He made sure to stay on his side, not to get in her way. But as soon as he had settled, he could feel Louisa cuddling close. Actually, she had hoped that he would enclose her with his warmth as he had done earlier on the patio, but if he didn't want to, she certainly would get as close as she could. She wrapped her arms around him as far as possible, and soon fell asleep against his back. Martin didn't dare to move. For quite some time he listened to her steady breathing, that slowly turned into a light snore, but now he smiled. How could he ever have complained about that? Now it was the sweetest music to his ears. Slowly he dozed off himself.

_To be continued…_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

When Louisa woke up the next morning, Martin was still asleep. During the night, he had turned around to face her and his arm had found its way around her waist, his hand resting on her back. When she had started to wake up, she had been startled to find someone touching her, but slowly she remembered the previous evening and cherished Martins touch. She looked over to him. Their faces were only a couple of inches apart. He looked so peaceful. She gently brushed his hair aside. A smile formed on his lips, still soundly asleep. He looked so relaxed, and then he was so handsome. This horrible force that always had power over him when he was awake had obviously loosened its clasp now that he was asleep. Why couldn't it always be like that? Why couldn't he find some peace – with the world and with himself? Would she ever be able to bring that to him? Somehow she doubted it, even though she hoped she was wrong.

He had been amazing this weekend. But was it enough to last a lifetime? What about when the novelty wore off? Would he find the strength to make such an effort in everyday life? And she didn't mean spoiling her and keeping on talking all of the time. In fact, even when she appreciated that he made an effort to talk things through, she also quite enjoyed just sitting silently with him on the dark patio. She wouldn't mind if, once the most important things had been talked through, he would turn out to be his usual _talkative_ self. As long as he surpassed himself from time to time when she really needed to understand him.

He hadn't proven to be more secure in intimate situations either. She smiled a bit when she remembered how he had to be persuaded to join her in bed last night. But as long as he gave in, in the end and didn't bugger it up, persuading was quite fun she admitted.

She was a bit anxious though how he would be with Peter. He seemed to be quite eager to meet him. But Martin and children? OK, she always tried to assure him when he raised his doubts, but to be honest, he never had been a particular favourite among her pupils. In fact, most of them had been almost scared of him when he had been still a GP in Portwenn.

Another business that they had to sort out was if he really would visit her regularly in Portwenn. He had such a demanding job in London and commuting to Cornwall was not really easy. Whenever she had felt alone in the past, she had googled Martin up, to see how he was doing. And so she had seen how he had made himself a household name in surgery. He seemed to be back on top. Could he really manage to be involved more in the future? It would certainly be no good if he just turned up for their holidays, after all.

Glancing over at him, she could hardly believe that he, who had such childlike qualities when sleeping peacefully, could be such an authority in his field. She always felt protective towards him and now she tried to imagine him as head of a team in the operating theatre. She truly felt for everyone who had to work under his reign. It couldn't be easy at all. He was such a perfectionist and so damn capable. The main problem was that he never realised that he was extraordinarily good at his job, so he just expected the same level from anyone else, and if they didn't meet his standards, he regarded them as _oafs_. Again, the problem boiled down to his low self-esteem. However, right now she simply loved him so much. She placed a light kiss on his lips, and he chuckled a bit in his sleep. Then she cuddled close and dozed off again.

The next time when Louisa opened her eyes, the place next to her was empty. She just allowed herself to unhastily welcome the day and enjoy the wonderful views. They were really lucky. Even the Cornish weather showed its best side for a change. After a while she got up to get ready for the day. When she entered the bathroom, she found Martin, in pyjamas, staring into the mirror.

"Oh, sorry Martin, I didn't realise you were in here." She tried to slip out immediately.

"No. Stay. I'm finished anyhow." He glanced again at his mirror image.

"You're still self-conscious about your _new look_?"

"What? No."

"What's it, then?"

"You can have the bathroom now." Martin declared and tried to walk off.

"You come back here. There's certainly something on your mind. Go ahead, spill it. You didn't consult the mirror to find out who's the handsomest man alive."

"What?"

"You know, the mirror in 'Sleeping Beauty'-the fairy tale - ah never mind. I just mean, that you didn't stare at your mirror image without any reason."

He clearly was embarrassed, taking on a definite shade of red.

"Well, it's just, I mean-I tried to find the person you talked about last night. There must be something that eludes me. How can you find anything attractive in that face? It looks worn out, at best."

To silence his doubts, she just kissed him soundly and ran her hands through his hair. "Don't worry about that. As long as I know. And now – I shan't be long."

When she came downstairs, he was dressed – again casually, much to her delight – and had started preparing breakfast. They enjoyed a quiet breakfast under the lovely Cornish sky. When he cleared the table afterwards, Louisa followed him to the kitchen. While he started cleaning the dishes, she tackled something that had been on her mind this morning. As she knew he didn't like to chat while eating, she had waited until now.

"Look, Martin, I don't know how much you can take this weekend." He was alarmed. He didn't like the sound of it at all. She saw him growing stiff.

"You've already come a long way these past few days, and your head must be spinning. Especially with all that talk. So I don't know. But as you were so eager to see Peter, I thought maybe…Would you like to see him tomorrow?"

Martin dropped a plate. It smashed into a thousand pieces. "BUGGER! Sorry, Louisa. I'd better clear that up. You know. Before someone cuts themself." Martin concentrated hard on his task. Louisa watched him silently.

Could it be that he could really… He never expected everything to go so quickly. Was he ready? Yes, he had been eager to see his child, to put a face to that faceless child in his dreams. But now? It scared the hell out of him.

"Martin? Did you hear?" Louisa grew impatient. Either he wanted to see Peter or not. But pretending not to have heard the question? A simple yes or no would do.

"MARTIN!"

Startled he quickly straightened up, and hit his head on the sink.

"Ouch. Yes. Louisa?"

"Peter – your son. Do you want to see him or not?" Louisa grew more impatient every minute. Martin was again staring – at her, into thin air. What did she know.

"Ohhhh. Forget it!" she sighed and off she was heading for the lounge. She really thought Martin had changed. But now? The same panicky look.

Martin composed himself as much as he could and followed her. Things had run too smoothly until now. There had to be a catch. They just had to wait for him to bugger it up. He could see that she was deeply upset. But things always went so quickly with Louisa. While he was still struggling to get a hold of the newly discovered ground, she was already moving further ahead!

"Louisa! Louisa, I mean…do you think…Is that a good idea? Isn't it too soon?"

"Your son's almost two years old. I hardly think it's too soon to see him for the first time. Do you?"

"Ehh…"Martin cleared his throat. "If you put it that way. I mean."

"Martin. I really thought you were serious about wanting to see your son."

"I was, I am. Sure" He jumped to assure her.

"So why didn't you react _at all_ to my suggestion. Either you want to see him or not. It's a simple question."

"Look. Everything is happening so quickly. And he. Wouldn't he be upset? I mean, don't you have to prepare him. He will be shocked."

"Prepare him? Talk things through? Explain to him why you decided to be back in our lives?"

Martin looked at her, puzzled. Did he say something wrong?

"Martin, he's a toddler. He won't understand."

"Oh?"

"Martin. It's like this. _IF_ you're serious about us, you'll have to face Peter sooner or later. And I suggest sooner. Especially as he is still young enough to adjust quickly. Soon he will know no difference."

"If you're not prepared to be with him, then there is no future for us. It's alright to let him stay with Joan for this weekend. You're right. He would have been in the way when we had to sort things out. But I miss him already. And there is _no way _that I will get him out of the way just for you to visit me."

"Louisa, that's not what I meant. Don't presume…"

"So what _do_ you want?"

Martin was struggling for words. In fact, he was struggling to find an answer for himself.

"What do you think is right?"

"Martin, I can't tell you what to do. And I don't want to. You have to decide. Do you want to see him or not?"

Martin paused. Why didn't he answer? Wasn't that why he had come down here in the first place? That and Louisa? Why wasn't he sure anymore. Fear was taking over.

"Yes, Louisa. I would like to see him very much."

But Louisa wasn't quite happy. He looked pained when he'd said it. Not as if he was looking forward to it.

"You're not doing it to please me?"

"No. No I really…"

"But just some minutes ago..?"

"I…Do you think I can?"

"Martin. You'll never find out if you can relate to your son unless you try. And it doesn't matter if that is tomorrow or next month. But the older he gets, the more he will be aware of the absence of his father. The more reserved he will be meeting you. You still have a chance to make a difference to him."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"What?"

"I'm sure he has the best of life with you and Joan. You both are so very good with children."

"Yes. But he is a boy and in my opinion needs a father."

"You surely don't believe I will be much of a father?"

"I believe you can be anything you put your effort in. It's up to you if you chose to. Look, you don't have to do it on your own. I will be there, and Joan is also more than happy to help with Peter and I'm pretty sure she will be delighted to help you with your son. We can help you. You won't be alone with Peter, so if you try to do something stupid – which I doubt will be the case – we'll be there."

"Look. If there is ever the possibility of us being together again, in any way, you'll have to take the plunge at some point."

"You really think I can do it?"

"Martin. No one says it will be easy. We all have to work hard to be good parents, partners – all our lives. But if we all work together…Don't be afraid. Please try."

Martin swallowed hard.

"Tomorrow then?"

"That's nice. I thought we could meet up with Joan and Peter. Joan and I spotted a beautiful place for picnics, about half way between here and Portwenn. I thought, maybe Joan could pack a picnic, take Peter up there and we could have a nice little day out, all four of us. Besides, Joan doesn't have to come all the way down here to pick me up, nor do you have to go all the way up to Portwenn to drop me off."

"It's only..."

_To be continued…_


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"It's only what? Do you or don't you?"

"I have nothing for him."

"Like what?"

"Aren't I supposed to have something for him, a present? And it's a bank holiday tomorrow. I can't get him anything either."

"Do you want to see him, or _buy_ him?" Louisa was a bit cross now.

Martin looked puzzled. He had said something wrong, obviously.

"Martin, didn't you ever wonder why I hadn't answered your bloody letters?"

"Well… obviously…you didn't want to have anything to do with me, didn't you? Can't blame you either. Sorry if I…"

"STOP IT, Martin! You don't know why, do you? I can bloody well tell you why. I don't need your money! That's why. I was _always_ pretty well capable of looking after myself. The LAST thing I need is some posh arrogant doctor waving his cheques. You CAN'T buy US! Is that crystal clear?"

"But Louisa…"

"I said – STOP IT. It's my turn. I talk, you listen!" It had all run too smoothly until now. He was concentrating hard now to compose himself. Just as Whitby had taught him. If he got upset too, they soon would both hit the roof. Another chance ruined. _It's the last chance you've got, man! Let the storm pass over and try to smooth things afterwards._

"What did you think when you wrote those letters, can you tell me that, Martin? Can you? Like some bloody anamnesis of one of your patients. I was in good medical care in Truro, thank you very much just the same. I don't need you for a long-distance diagnosis. All this bloody talk about '_I trust all necessary tests have been made …bla..bla…bla…'_ I never heard about a doctor attending ex-patients after they had taken on a new position. Have you, Martin?"

"_IF _I needed you at all, I would have needed you as a _partner_. Not as my bloody doctor. But, oh no, we don't want to get involved, do we? I can still hear you, before you headed off to London '_I'm expressing concern for your welfare'_. What does that mean? Have you ever heard such _BULLSHIT_! If you don't care, it's OK. Don't press yourself. Martin, I _never_ wanted you to be something you're not. And I don't need these hypocritical pretensions of you caring, out of some old-fashioned sense of duty."

"And you, trying to make sure that I can't provide for myself, trying to ruin the head teacher job for me. Did you think that then I would have to depend on you financially? To soothe your ego? Thank you _very_ much, but that's not for me. I don't need anyone. I can very well cope on my own. Peter and I may not live as Rockefeller, but we're happy. Thank you just the same. And, by the way, you can have all your bloody cheques back. I didn't cash in _any_ of them."

"In your letters, did you _ever_ ask about your child? Did you, Martin? Can you even remember what you've written? Or did you have your secretary do it? They couldn't have been more impersonal if you had, actually. '_Oh, and by the way Mrs. Whatever-your-name-is, there's a new cheque due to that little woman down in Cornwall. The usual note.'_ And all of a sudden, it's _all so essential_ to see your son! Why the change of heart? Couldn't you have asked once about him?"

Martin couldn't take anymore. This wasn't fair. Even she had to know that it wasn't true. Or hadn't she believed anything he said during the last two days? It had been so difficult to open up to her. Had it all been in vain?

"Look, Louisa. I simply can't stand by, listening to all that…that-_rubbish!_"

"Oh, it's rubbish. I'm probably _emotional_ again, am I? It's always better than being cold-hearted and detached!"

"Louisa, it's nothing like you have said! Please. Remember what you have promised yesterday. To try to accept my limitation, try to understand. Can't we talk about it quietly? You have it all wrong."

"So it's me again, is it? Well. You're right. I promised. Maybe this is the test where I can see if the system I thought about works. I will go for a walk. We both try to calm down. I'll be back in half an hour or so."

With that she walked off. He sadly looked after her. He was tense on the verge of panic. What could he say in his defence? He tried to calm down, and get his head straight. Furthermore, he tried to figure out, if he really wanted to see his son tomorrow. Yes. He was sure. Why hadn't he said so? His bloody insecurity. If you're sure that you'll screw it up anyhow, you can do it immediately. Then you can stop worrying. Then you have proved you're a tosser, and everyone's right after all. He had to tell her in no uncertain terms that he did want to see his son very much, but that he needed her guidance, as he had not the slightest clue what to do with a toddler.

Louisa paced her way along the cliffs. For once, she had no eye for the beautiful landscape. She had to get her anger out of the system. Otherwise she would bugger it up. She had to admit that he was right in one point. He had warned her yesterday that he would infuriate her from time to time and she felt so noble that she said – in all honesty, she had to say in her defence – she could cope with his inabilities. But when he was like that, he brought out the worst in her.

But was it really just what he had said right now? No. It just had brought back to her mind all her disappointment about his inept attempts to make contact. Couldn't he at least show some heartfelt concern? When the first letter had arrived, she had been genuinely delighted. Until she had opened it. The money had really hurt her most. In her book being a father didn't mean to pay money. Sure, financial support could be _part_ of it. But reduced to it? She had felt so sad that he didn't even seem to bother about their child.

Then she remembered how she had cradled him yesterday because he had felt that he might harm his child. He, of all people! But he couldn't just withdraw from everyone. That was no solution. She had just told him that she could cope very well on her own. But was that true? Wasn't that just her bloody stubborn pride? Too many people had let her down in her life whenever she tried to depend on someone, first and foremost her father – always good in making promises. But was she really so independent? She surely wouldn't know what to do without Joan. She had to admit that there would be no chance at all that she could do her duties as a head teacher if Joan wouldn't step in to look after her grand-nephew whenever asked. Joan surely tried to compensate the lack of commitment of her nephew. But she also knew from Joan that Martin hadn't asked about her and the child in his letters to her. It was beyond her how Martin could live knowing there was a child of his somewhere and not knowing _anything_ about it.

She had accused him of being cold-hearted and detached. Detached maybe, but she was sure he wasn't cold-hearted. Maybe emotionally crippled. He really seemed to have no clue how to express himself. She remembered the panic in his eyes when he had realised that she had been pregnant. Pure terror. And then the disaster had begun. He really said all the wrong things. She had to address that, too, when she came back. It was the root of the problem. It was the first reason why this conversation had turned out to be quite nasty. Maybe she had to point out this connection. Maybe he hadn't made this connection himself. And when he just took the conversation in itself, without looking at the history leading toward it, he couldn't understand why she had been so angry.

Would he commit himself to build up some bond between him and the child now? She simply had to ask him. Maybe assure him that he would be able to. She knew from experience that children mostly had fewer problems to accept people as they were, as they hadn't so much experience and therefore didn't expect people to act in a certain way. Maybe this was even a chance for Martin to be accepted unreserved for once in his life. But she had to make sure that he wasn't really just acting out of a sense of duty. If he didn't mean it wholeheartedly, then there was no sense in it. That was really part of the problem.

She loved him for his honesty, for him being so dependable. But the same characteristics meant that you could never be sure if he did something because he wanted to or because he thought he ought to. She realised that this tactic she had developed yesterday had a very unnerving side effect. Having to think things through thoroughly also meant that she had to analyse her own motivations, and she didn't always like what she discovered. She really had committed herself to something yesterday, in saying that they would find a way. She had to go back now and could only just hope that they would be able to discuss it amicably.

_To be continued…_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Martin waited for her return. The conversation had been so short. It was beyond him as to what there was to think about for so long. But as much as he dreaded the confrontation, he wanted to have it over and done with.

Martin saw Louisa approach the cottage. He had a lump in this stomach. Now he would find out if there was a realistic chance for them. If they could talk now, there might be hope.

Louisa entered the lounge and took a deep breath. Martin waited for her to give him some sign if she felt ready to talk.

"So, Martin…"

"Louisa. First I'd like to point out that I would like to see my son tomorrow. I want it very much. I am just so … so… I don't know how to act. I had never had anything to with children. I am afraid I will do something stupid."

"You don't have to agree to see Peter just to please me, you know."

"No Louisa. It is not that. Really it isn't. It just scares the life out of me."

"Martin. Why didn't you ever ask about our child? Why did you leave Portwenn just before I was due to give birth? It seemed to me that you fled me. Fled us. During the whole pregnancy you acted oddly. I can't remember so many vicious quarrels between us before."

"I know that I didn't look too good in this whole affair. You really got me by surprise when you turned up at my doorstep. Couldn't you have written or phoned before? You know I'm not good in reacting spontaneously, especially when I'm emotionally involved. I stood there like a fool when you and Edith agreed that there was nothing to talk about."

"So it's all my fault? You actually had time to recover, you know. Almost three months time."

"Please, Louisa. Don't rush. I really think we have to unfold it slowly. Why did you insist that Edith should stay? At least you could have given me a proper chance to talk to you."

"You didn't seem to be too happy for me disturbing you."

"Of course I was shocked. I don't deny it. I was shocked to see you – I had mistaken so many women for you since you were gone that I had to grasp the fact that it was in fact _you_. And then I have to confess that it had never occurred to me, that in my life that I could…I mean…me, of all people! - father a child. It was information so abstruse; it took time to sink in."

"Especially with Edith sitting in your kitchen."

"I told you before. She meant nothing. It was over since medical school. I just bumped into her at Truro hospital when she had to examine one of my patients and …let's say, we disagreed about the treatment. I forced her to do it my way, and she came over to apologise. She would have performed the wrong treatment. That was all. I really would have preferred her to leave so I would be able to talk to you. But you didn't give me a chance!"

Louisa thought back to that fateful night. What did she really see? A strange woman sitting at Martin's kitchen table as it was the most normal thing in the world. If they knew each other from university, and given the history between them which he never denied, that would be perfectly possible.

"Sorry. I really had the feeling I was interrupting something. And the fear in your eyes was not helping either."

"I admit, I felt pure terror. I didn't know how to act, what was expected of me. I was sure that this was a role I would be terribly miscast in. But do you really think it helped that you were on the way to the pub immediately? You didn't even give me the chance to invite you to stay. I would have done, you know."

"I know, but that was part of the problem. I know it might sound silly, but my problem was that I know that you're a decent man, that you would have done everything you thought were your moral duty. I didn't want that. You shouldn't do what you didn't want to do, just because you felt you ought to."

"But why did you assume I didn't want you to stay?"

"I'm afraid we're back at discussing Edith."

"How often shall I tell you…"

"Martin, I believe you. Now. But we _are_ discussing our motives back then. I felt jealous." Martin couldn't believe it. As far as he knew no one ever felt jealous about him. Surely not.

"How could you believe I could ever replace you? And with Edith of all people?"

"To be fair, I wasn't at my emotional best either. I was infuriated that this posh school of Holly's made such a fuss over me being pregnant. I honestly didn't think it was possible to fire someone in the 21st century for being unmarried and pregnant. But I hadn't read my contract properly. As it was a private school which paid attention to the _old values_, there were several paragraphs in the contract where you had to commit yourself to _moral behaviour._ Being a single mother was definitely not in their code of behaviour. So I had to fight to keep my baby, and had to give up this job. Not that I liked London very much, but I feared Portwenn – because of you."

"I felt so terribly guilty when you left. You should have talked to me before you made that move. I would have given you space. It is your village after all. I was never at home anywhere. I would have left if you had asked me."

"But I would have been haunted by my memories, and by the well-meaning, unwanted advice of everyone. No, I really thought it was the right move at that time. But then I didn't know how productive you had been." She continued with a sad smile.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't mean to. And I also knew you didn't want to have any children, while I always dreamt about having some."

"You _assumed_ I didn't want to have children."

"Did you?"

"Actually, no, I never found the possibility of being a father a very realistic one. But I'm not sure, if you'd have given me time to adjust to that idea, that I might have accepted it. With your help."

"You had time to say so, and act as if you would, in the weeks that followed, but, honestly Martin, you were quite horrid."

"Louisa, what was it you said to me on that evening, in front of my surgery? Do you remember?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you told me that '_It's not your problem'_. Don't you think that might have something to do with it?"

"Yes, after you told me that it was too late for an abortion! You would have jumped to the opportunity to wash Peter down the sink!"

"Wait a minute! I…I was just..:" His big blue eyes were staring at her now.

"Just what?" Martin felt that this was definitely going into the wrong direction. He desperately needed to calm down. He concentrated on his breathing, and trying hard to slow down the conversation to have time to think. "Martin, I'm waiting!"

"Please, Louisa. Give me a minute. Otherwise I just say the wrong things, and I don't want that to happen again." Louisa was not happy about this, but she had to accept after what she had promised the previous day. In the meantime Martin had composed himself a bit.

"Louisa, I know I said all the wrong things. I could see it in you face how deeply I had hurt you. But I felt guilty for getting you into trouble."

"'_Getting me into trouble'_? I wasn't _in trouble_, simply pregnant. Martin, you do realise it's the 21st century? Not some Victorian novel?"

"That's the same thing my Dad told me."

"What is?"

"That I was living in a novel. Am I really so far from reality?"

"Oh Martin. You're just so terribly old fashioned in your views."

"Louisa, that's how I was brought up. I don't know how to act differently."

"You're grown up now. You must have found out on your way that people are sometimes more important than your personal moral code."

"I never had anyone to turn to, to talk things through with. When I had to make a decision, I had to do it on my own. I had to take the responsibility for it on my own. The only guidance I ever had were these moral codes. I always found that quite helpful."

Louisa thought about that. It did make sense in a way. If she needed some advice or had to make a decision, a couple of people came to her mind that she could turn to and she remembered several people who had formed her beliefs over the years. Then she tried to imagine what it might have been for Martin, being pressed into the formality of the boarding school and afterwards never had _anyone_ to turn to and to top it all, being unable to read the actions of the human beings around him. If he needed some assistance with decisions – did he have any other choice? She nodded silently, without noticing. Martin noticed but too eagerly.

"You do understand?"

"Well, maybe. But Martin, I don't need anyone to _look after me_. I'm bloody well capable of looking after myself. You have to realise, _if _we would be together, it's not because I need you, but because I want to."

"Is that what you wanted to prove in your pregnancy? That you don't need me?"

"Martin, I didn't want you to feel responsible. If you weren't interested – fine! I could cope. I didn't want to force you!"

"No, you wanted to keep me out if it. To shut me out."

"You didn't really try to be involved, did you?"

"You didn't let me!" The argument grew more heated again.

"Martin, tell me when did you _ever_ try to get involved?"

"I asked you to take you to hospital, to start with!"

"No, Martin, you asked if you _should_ be the one taking me, that's quite a difference!"

"Oh, Louisa! Don't be picky. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to. But you brushed it aside. You made it clear that you didn't _want_ me."

"You really think I didn't _want _to have the father around? But it's no good if he doesn't _want_ to be around."

"I _did_ want to take care of you – and the baby!"

"You bloody well didn't show!"

"How _could _I? You made it impossible!"

"How convenient! My fault again!"

"YES!"

Louisa glared at him.

_To be continued…_


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

After they both tried to catch their breath, Louisa continued after a short silence. "Just look at us, Martin! Will it ever work between us, I wonder? We can't afford another split-up. We are both not getting any younger, we are running out of years."

"I'm sorry for shouting. I'm sorry for _how_ I said it, but I can't apologise for what I was saying. Your behaviour has hurt me too much. Didn't you ever wonder why I practically snatched the scan out of your hand?"

"To discuss _our_ baby with bloody EDITH!"

"I can assure you, I never showed Edith the scan. I wouldn't have needed your printout to talk it over with Edith. The hospital saved the data."

Louisa stared at him. "What _did_ you need it for?"

"I wanted to have _something_ of the baby. I had the scan in my desk drawer, and when the feeling of being left out became too strong, I opened it at looked at this vague image." Louisa looked at him in disbelief, while Martin continued.

"And when you had to come to me, because you were worried about the baby as it hadn't moved for quite some while-"

"-when you tried to throw me out? Asking me why I had come in the first place?"

"Because I thought you felt awkward!"

"I _felt _awkward! About my fat fingers!"

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"You simply shouldn't have assumed…"

"Something that you'd never do, of course." Louisa went silent.

"Point taken. What did you want to say about this consultation?"

"Well, simply, I loved that you needed me. That I _could_ be involved. I felt …rather…I don't know…it was a strange feeling…never felt like it before…or afterwards, for that matter. Hearing the heartbeat of the baby, knowing that this life…"

"Martin, why didn't you say?"

"But how _could_ I? You made it abundantly clear that you didn't _want_ me around. Do you have _any_ idea how I felt about you referring yourself to Truro, not wanting me to be your doctor?"

"I'm sorry for hurting your professional pride." But there was an acid tone in her voice, which eluded Martin.

"Yes, it did hurt my pride. I wanted to look after you. I felt responsible." Louisa rolled her eyes. Martin got annoyed again.

"It's alright for you! You could prove that you were independent – and made your point that I had to take what _you_ were willing to offer! If that's nothing at all, then I end up with nothing!"

"If you wanted to be involved, you could have been!"

"I _wanted _to be involved!" Martin's voice cracked. He couldn't hold back now. "Do you have _any _idea how haunting it is to know you have a child and get _no information _at all, just because the mother wants to prove to herself that she can cope alone? That she is stubbornly independent?"

Louisa felt her temper raise, but suddenly couldn't think of anything to say. So they faced each other, finally speechless. After quite a while, Louisa finally stated. "We're running in circles, don't you think?"

Martin gasped. He tried to calm down. That was _exactly_ what he wanted to avoid. Finally he was in control again.

"Louisa, I'm really concerned because I think you want me to have nothing to do with children. You always try to keep me at bay when it comes to children and that just enhances my fears about meeting Peter. And I am not sure if you want me to."

"What do you mean '_always_'. I can't remember any connection between you and any children before where I interfered."

"Our ruined wedding day? Your bridesmaid? What was her name again?"

"Isobel?"

"Yes, Isobel. Maybe that's when you planted this insecurity within me. Not that I ever felt confident about handling children. But I never gave it a thought, really, before that day."

"I still don't know what you mean."

"You don't even remember, do you?"

"Of course I know she went into labour, and you had to deliver your first baby."

"And then?"

"She went to hospital. So?"

"What did she say, just before the doors of the ambulance were closed?"

"Oh? You mean that she asked you to be the godfather? But you didn't truly want to?"

"Oh, I didn't? Thanks for telling me."

"You?…Seriously? I was convinced that you just agreed to please me."

"Tell me, Louisa, did I _ever_ commit myself to something that I didn't want to do?"

Louisa thought for a moment. She remembered how disappointed Mark had been that Martin didn't want to be his best man. Martin didn't give in when Louisa tackled that subject. Louisa turned to Martin quietly. "I'm sorry. I just thought I would get you out of something you didn't want to do. So why were you prepared to do it?"

"I knew you liked children, and just thought it might be possible that you wanted some. If I was to marry you, I should get used to it. I thought it might be a good opportunity to get used to children and learn something about them, without taking the risk of messing anything up with them. A sort of long-distance course."

"I'm sorry Martin. It never occurred to me. Again – why didn't you say? You accepted that I wanted to excuse you without any contradiction."

"It dawned on me that you didn't trust me with children. That feeling is still deeply rooted inside of me."

"Martin. I _am_ sorry. It just wasn't very thoughtful of me. I am sure your meeting with Peter will go alright."

"If you help me. But do you also see that your behaviour during pregnancy was a bit offending?"

"I wouldn't go that far. But can we agree that there were a lot of misunderstandings between us. We should have talked. But back then, you weren't the easiest person to talk to. I am certainly glad that you changed in that respect. I am glad that you actually tell me how things appear to you."

"I am sorry, too. I simply wasn't used to talking to anybody. And whenever I opened up to someone as a child, it was either spread and used as a source of more ridicule or in the best case ignored and I was blamed for being _needy_. I had to learn how to talk. And I'm still in the process of doing so."

As a peace offer, Louisa gently stroked his hand.

"Shall I call Joan to fix the picnic tomorrow?"

"Yes Louisa, I am truly looking forward to it. Honestly I am. Although I'm scared."

"Can you fix some more tea while I'm calling Joan?"

With that, he disappeared into the kitchen, while Louisa went onto the patio and dialled Joan's number on the mobile.

"Yes?" Joan's familiar voice could be heard.

"It's me. How is everything?"

"Peter and I are getting along beautifully. I'm just astonished how long it took you to call for help. Don't worry; I'm right on my way…"

"No! Joan! Don't hang up!"

"You don't want me to pick you up?"

"Not just yet, Joan. That is if you don't mind keeping Pete until tomorrow?"

"Everything's honky-dory here. But I can hardly believe that you're not fed up with Marty already?"

"Actually, I just wanted to ask you if all of us could meet for a picnic tomorrow?"

"What do you mean '_all of us_'?"

"Well, I thought that if you could take Peter to the spot we usually go to for picnics, and I'll take Martin…"

"Peter and Martin at the same spot? Do you _really_ think that's such a good idea?"

"Well, Martin would like to see his son."

"Oh, he remembered he had a child, did he? And now you have to rush to bring them together, do you? He's shown no interest whatsoever until now, which is shameful, in my opinion!"

"Yes, Joan. I thought so, too. But after talking to him…it wasn't easy for him either."

"What? Going to London to follow his precious career and never give a damn about you and the baby? Sounds like the easy way out to me."

"Joan. Please don't say anything like that to him tomorrow. We have to talk first. Just not tomorrow. Please!"

"Alright. So he wants to play family then. Don't worry, I'll be down there."

"Can you prepare the picnic, please? I don't have enough here, I'm afraid."

"No problem."

"And please pack all of Martin's favourites. And plenty of them."

"Well, if you ask me…"

"But I'm not. I'll explain everything tomorrow. Or maybe you already know everything?"

"No, Marty didn't say much. Just that he had to talk to you, and he needed my help."

"Then be in for a few surprises." Louisa giggled. "And Joan – behave yourself! He needs our help!"

"Hmmph."

"Joan, please."

"If you insist. I'll bring the goodies and Peter. See you. And in case of emergency – I can pick you up at any time. See you."

"Bye."

_To be continued…_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Just as Louisa hung up, Martin came outside carrying the tea tray.

"Everything's fixed." Louisa informed him.

"Good."

Then he sat down in silence, poured both of them a cup of tea, and kept on quietly brooding.

After a while, Louisa felt uneasy. "Is something the matter, Martin?"

"These rows – do you think we will ever be able to avoid them?"

Louisa just though for a moment, but had to confess honestly. "No, Martin. I don't think so. We are just too different. And me being what you call '_emotional_', and you being what I call '_ill-tempered_' – I think we are bound to clash sometimes."

"Will it really work, then?"

"No one says that we have to be happy and content all the time. Relationships are hard work. They don't just _happen_. As long as we can make up immediately afterwards, and as long as the good things outweigh the difficulties. Yes, Martin, then I think it will work."

"I don't think I'll have the strength to lose you again."

"Martin, I also missed you. Do you know what it is like to see your very eyes in your son's face everyday? I really haven't had any chance to forget you."

Martin sighed. He tried to imagine his eyes in a little fellow's face. Tomorrow he would see. He was scared stiff.

Louisa looked over to him and could see that he was completely tense. "You're worried about tomorrow?" Martin nodded silently. His eyed still fixed at the same spot on the floor.

"Martin, nothing much will happen. Everything will be OK. When Joan comes with Peter, he will probably run towards me. I will pick him up, and say hello to him properly. He isn't used to being away from me for such a long time."

"Then talk a bit with him while I'm holding him. You won't tower over him too much that way. Remember not to look down at him. Try to be on his level while you speak. He likes to talk. Ask him what his name is…"

"…but I know that already?"

"Sure you do, Martin. But you can't discuss the recent political developments with him, can you? Please remember that he is a small child. Keep it simple. Simple questions. And don't expect particularly clever answers!" Martin listened carefully. But it sounded more and more complicated to him. "Ask about how he is. If he likes picnics. When he has his Teddy with him, ask what it is called..:"

"The TEDDY?"

"Yes, Martin, cuddly toys usually have a name."

"Maybe you can write me…a list?"

"Oh, Martin! You do get the idea, don't you?" He stared at her. "Martin, questions that can be answered in one word would be perfect. And don't use complicated words. The same words you would use to make a point to prove to some of your simpler patients that you find them _inadequate_."

"When I have humoured him a bit and he got a bit used to you, maybe I can hand him over to you."

Martin turned his head in shock towards her. "I…I can't hold him! I don't know how. I-I don't want to hurt him."

"Martin, it's the easiest thing, especially with your strength. You just support his bottom with your one arm, and the other hand supports the back. Nothing can happen. Even I can hold him like this. And I am far from being strong like you….And - _please_ –look at him when you're doing so. Don't look for the nearest escape.

"Ok. I subsume – Simple words, questions with monosyllabic answers, support his bottom and back."

"Yes Martin, that's basically it."

"But, please, stop me if I do something stupid. I don't want to harm him."

"You won't. Trust me." Martin didn't look at all as if he was sure.

"I can't afford to bugger it up. Please make sure that I don't. Please."

"You're really determined to make it work this time, aren't you?"

Martin looked away and focused on the same spot on the floor as before. For quite some time she could only hear his concentrated breathing. Finally he spoke, very softly. "Louisa, for me it's different. Not as you have described it for you."

"What do you mean? You lost me." Martin sighed.

"About our relationship – I don't only want it, of course I do – but I _need_ it. I need you."

Louisa stared across, at his profile. He still stared in front of him. She waited for him to make eye contact, but he didn't intend to. When Louisa reached over to touch his hand, he jumped to his feet, staring over the coast, his back to Louisa. He was struggling with his feelings. He didn't want to rush Louisa. But what was going on in his head wasn't helping. He couldn't afford looking at her now. And physical contact of any kind was surely out of the question.

He never thought he could feel such passion. What he wanted to do…no, he had to compose himself. Concentrate on something else. But he couldn't think of anything but her. And now he could hear her getting up. Please, let her not come towards him! But he realised immediately that that's what she was doing. He could hear her stopping inches away behind him. It cost him all his self-control not to turn around. But then he could feel her placing her hand on his back. She was saying something, but his brain wasn't able to process the information. The world around him started to tumble.

Louisa couldn't stand the sight of him, staring into the distance, back towards her, obviously in some sort of trouble. She had no clue what was troubling him. Finally she decided that she should find out. So she went over to him, placed her hand on his back and asked, if everything was alright. She was truly surprised, when Martin turned around quickly, took her into his firm embrace, almost crushing her, and kissed her so passionately, desperately, deeply. She never experienced anything like it with Martin, would never have thought he would do anything like it. He breathed into her, frantically. She wasn't sure, but she thought she felt tears running from his eyes. He seemed to be out of his mind. She could hardly breathe anymore. Finally he broke apart.

_To be continued…_


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

They stared at each other. Martin's eyes grew big as he realised what he had done. He never had lost control like that. He had only allowed himself some action when Louisa had made her intentions clear. He had never taken the liberty to…"Oh Louisa…I…I don't know what…I…am…so…sorry!"

Before Louisa could assure him that it was alright, he was already striding away, declaring that he '_needed some air'_.

"Oh Martin!" she gasped in exasperation. But he couldn't hear her anymore. There was no use in going after him, as he was covering ground quickly. Why couldn't he simply accept those urges? It was perfectly normal male behaviour. Why did he think he was different? If this was unusual for him, it was just worse. Teenagers had to learn to handle those feelings. But men in their late forties? She just hoped he would come back soon, and didn't feel too ashamed to face her. Practically nothing had happened. Except for something she hoped he would do since they first met – to take the initiative. Why should she always be the one to decide when it was time for some action?

She stared after him until he was just a small point in a huge landscape. She sat down on the patio. She thought about their argument earlier. She had misjudged him, it seemed. But one thing started to worry her – he obviously had no clue whatsoever about children and parenting. She saw many arguments coming. It would be really tough to get him to be more confident about it. She hoped she could get some of the old boarding school routine out of his system. She would never allow Peter to be confronted with those. But before they could discuss that, he had to meet his son. Maybe he had some natural instincts.

She thought about everything that he had told her. His life has gone wrong right from the start, and seemed to have gone downhill ever after. Maybe she really was his only hope for redemption. That was such a horrible responsibility. But he needed her. And that was the key. She had never meant so much to anyone ever – except Peter of course. She would have two boys to look after.

Time passed by and there was no sign of Martin's return. So she got up and went into the kitchen to check what was left for supper. Some vegs, potatoes and chicken breast. She started to prepare the meal. It was their last damned evening and they surely could put it to far better use than this! She had finally prepared everything so that it would just need some warming up, when she returned to the patio. Still no sign of him. She decided to ring him on his mobile – hoping that he would still have the same number.

Martin was still walking quickly, cursing himself, just trying to get _it_ out of his system. Suddenly his mobile rang. He had made sure that the numbers from the hospital would be suppressed, and he could think of no one else wanting to call to him. He tried to ignore it, but the sound irritated him. So he snatched it out of his pocket and bellowed "ELLINGHAM!"

"Martin, what _do_ you think you're doing?"

"Louisa?"

"Yeah, I'm still waiting at the cottage. Joan offered to pick me up when she spoke to me this afternoon. I would have accepted if I'd known that I would be sitting here alone."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't..:"

"You don't want to discuss this on the phone? I'd say you had better come back. Before it gets dark!"

"I can't – I mean, face you. After I lost control like that."

"I'll tell you what you can or can't do as soon as you come back. But without any further discussion – COME BACK!"

Martin gave in, and turned on his heels. He felt a lump in his stomach. Today hadn't gone to his liking at all. The row, him losing control. His worst fears had come true. Was there ever a chance that Louisa would still want him? He shouldn't have confessed that he needed her. That had stirred something within him, an urgent need. He had never acted anything like that before. He felt ashamed.

Meanwhile Louisa sat on the patio again, trying to spot Martin. She certainly hoped he would be on his way back. Well over an hour later, the well-familiar frame appeared in the distance. This stupid man must have rushed into one direction, further away from her, the whole time. It would take some time until he would reach the cottage. She sighed and fixed two cuppas.

Finally, the sun was already showing the first signs of calling it a day, he approached the patio, where Louisa was awaiting him with a cup of tea for both of them.

He looked down, playing with his ring, when he shyly approached her. His colour was definitely rising. As soon as he had joined her on the patio, Louisa burst out. "What the hell did you think…"

"Louisa, I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I couldn't control it. I know I shouldn't have…like that…without asking you. But I tried to avoid any eye and physical contact because I felt there was something stirring me up. And when you placed your hand on my back, I…sorry I lost control."

"You stupid man! That's not at all what I mean. Why did you run away like that? There was no chance that I could stop you. What a waste of time."

"I…I had to get it out of my system. Somehow. I thought physical exercise and fresh air and solitude would help."

"I know a better way to get it _out of your system_, but for that it would have been essential that you stayed." Martin looked quizzically at her.

"Oh, Martin! I know exactly what hit you. And I didn't mind it at all."

"You didn't?"

"Why should I always be the one who starts any _action_ between us? I can remember but _one_ kiss that you actually induced while we were engaged. Otherwise you always waited for me to take action. Why? Today you simply showed that you are a man with very healthy, normal urges. Why should you be different from anyone else? Why can't you simply accept and enjoy?"

"But to have pushed you like that? That is inexcusable. I really feel ashamed. How can you trust me ever again?"

"Don't you think I would have stopped you if I wanted to? Do you really think I would have allowed anything that I didn't want?"

"But I didn't give you a chance..:"

"Oh, Martin! There are ways, and don't worry – I know them. You don't think all men are so aloof and considerate as you are, do you?"

"You mean, others have done…?"

"At least they tried. And mind you, I was always _very_ good in cooling their passion. But then I wanted to cool them down."

"You can forgive me, then? You didn't mind too much?"

"There is nothing to forgive. And in a way, it's what I wanted since I intoxicated you way back then. To see the real you – without belts and braces. But I never managed to cross that last barrier you always had around you. The last stronghold of self-control. Even when we made love, you never let go completely. But today – that was raw emotion. You didn't hold anything back. Your defences were completely down. And I don't complain. Because real love also means that you can be just you – without any reservations."

Martin stared at her in disbelief. "But why were you angry then?"

"Because you ran away! You didn't have to get me down here to run over these bloody cliffs alone! We could have made far better use of that energy. You have to promise me something."

"I promise you, it won't happen again."

"OK, as long as we talk about the same '_it'_. I'm talking about you running away without giving me a chance to say anything, _not_ the embrace."

"Oh?"

"Yes, oh. And thanks to your silly excursion we are running out of time. So I took the liberty of preparing our supper. It just needs warming up." Louisa disappeared into the kitchen. Martin was still puzzled. He would never understand Louisa. She had been furious with him because of that scientifically correct remark about perfume, but she was completely unconcerned when he lost control and forced himself onto her. How should he ever understand?

_To be continued…_


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Meanwhile Louisa came back with the glasses – wine for her, the usual water for him, just to disappear again to fetch the plates.

Over supper, Louisa tackled something that had been on her mind all day. "Martin?" He looked up from his plate. "I was just thinking – when did you plan to come down here again? I mean, if I introduce you to Peter tomorrow, it wouldn't help to form a bond if you're down two or three times a year. He will forget you immediately at his age."

"Actually, Louisa, I thought – hoped is more like it – only if I don't get on your nerves, and it it's convenient for you – naturally …I wouldn't simply assume, I assure you…"

"Martin, you're confusing me. Just tell me _when_. A simple date will do."

"Maybe…next Friday?" He looked over at her cautiously, one eyebrow raised. Louisa looked at him in disbelief.

"You're kidding?"

"I'm sorry. That's too soon, isn't it? Never mind. Just tell me a date, and I'll be down here. Whenever it is convenient for you."

"No, Martin. I wasn't thinking about _my_ convenience. But London-Portwenn is a hell of a journey. Are you _really_ sure you want to have that ordeal twice a week?"

"Actually, I hoped I could come down by train. If you or Joan could pick me up at Truro station, maybe? I could stop at the hospital around noon – they still owe me some compensation for hours I worked overtime – and do some literature research on the train. That wouldn't be too bad, actually."

"If you're sure – I'll be happy to have you."

"We could see each other Friday to Sunday, while I could stay at Joan's farm.."

"Ooooh no, no way."

"Sorry? To come down for one day would be…"

"No Martin, I know. I just mean – _if_ you are staying anywhere, then it's with me. Is that understood?"

Martin's glass, which he was holding, started to shake visibly. "Eeeeh – good – fine. If you think so. But do you have a spare room?" He remembered seeing bedding in the living area when Holly had been ill and occupied Louisa's bedroom.

"No, I have not." Louisa accentuated every single word.

"Oh! Right!" Martin cleared his throat. Maybe he hadn't buggered up everything today after all. The prospect was appealing. A smile formed on his full lips. Louisa saw it with satisfaction. He was getting the image and didn't protest. Some progress then.

"You realise that you being back in Portwenn will heat up the gossip, don't you?"

"You mean you will feel awkward, being connected with me?"

"I was more thinking about you. I can handle village gossip. I've been used to it all my life. You always had a problem with rumours spreading fast."

"No. That's fine. Good. No problem."

"If you say so…" Louisa said with a wry smile.

While the meal was almost finished, Louisa decided that his eager suggestion to visit so soon again and his approval of the staying over arrangement deserved to be rewarded.

Suddenly she noticed an irritated look on Martin's face, then his eyes grew big while he stared at her, her face a picture of pure innocence, when he finally dropped his fork and jumped a bit on his chair. Louisa smiled.

Martin had felt something at his foot, and first wanted to bend down to inspect his trousers for some nasty bug. Soon it became clear that no insect was the source of those strange sensations. He looked over to Louisa. Could it be that she? No, she innocently chewed some carrots. No way that she… But then there was no doubt that she had started to stroke his leg with her bare foot. He gulped. He noticed that his fork had fallen onto the plate with considerable noise. But Louisa seemed unimpressed and continued her manipulations. Suddenly she bent over, to fill his plate up with the left-overs from her plate. She purred something about him needing all of his strength. Suddenly he felt hot. Sweat formed on his forehead. Before him he could see Louisa's smiling face. He tried hard to concentrate on anything but the thing that was popping into his brain, and this time there would be no chance that he could escape, neither would Louisa let him. Far away he heard Louisa mention something about an '_early night'_. He now concentrated hard to get this damned supper out of the way in a dignified manner.

_To be continued…_


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Later that night the sound of the nightly waves over the Cornish Coast were mixed with sounds seldom heard along this shore, coming from a little remote cottage near the Cliffs.

"Louisa, you're so…Louisa? What are you planning? Ohhh Louisa! Louisa? You don't want to…? What _are_ you doing? No, Louisa you can't! You shouldn't! Louisa? Don't! No! Louisa! No! No, Louisa! Oh, Louisa? Ohhhhhhhhh Louisahhhh…." The rest could only be heard from inside the cottage. Only some groaning and grunting, interrupted by some light laughter, excited shrieks and satisfied sighs would have been heard _if_ some unexpected visitor had passed by, but of course no one was around for miles.

After a considerable time the woman cuddled close to the man, like a satisfied kitten. Meanwhile, the man still tried to regain some sort of control, his head still buzzing, his body still sensing her touch. Although he was exhausted beyond words, every fibre was still lusting after HER. What was it? How could it have happened? He sure didn't know. He just knew that he felt alive as he had never done before. He was glowing. While he could feel her doze off, her head comfortably lying on his chest, he couldn't even think about sleep. His nerves were still firing like a machine gun.

Whenever he had thought that he had reached the heights of emotions, she had turned him on again-and again. He had felt an insane lust; an ecstasy which was in gross contrast to his well-composed life; he, who had always prided himself on his self-control, had lost all inhibition, all sense of decency, led by her to unbeknown heights of sexual desire. There were some things he would have sworn he would never do in his life, or allowed to be done to him. He breached several of these vows tonight. He still blushed at the thought how his brain had finally surrendered to the needs of the body, his worn-out shell. And now, she had filled his being with life again. He looked down at her, peacefully sleeping. She looked so sweet now. So innocent. But when he remembered the lovemaking earlier…

He watched the sun innocently rise over the horizon. Although he hadn't been able to sleep, he felt refreshed and strong. He had guarded her sleep, watching her, enjoying her innocently touching him while she was sound asleep. She even had laughed lightly, bringing a smile onto his face. But now she started to stir. Soon she would be awake. He watched her closely now, not wanting to miss the slightest motion. He longed to see her eyes as soon as she opened them. Slowly her eyelids started to flutter. Any moment now. And there he could see her beautiful eyes with that lovely twinkle. When she realised he was staring at her, she gave him her prettiest smile. They gazed into each others eyes for an endless time, it seemed.

"Did you sleep well, Martin?"

"Actually…no…"

"No? I thought I had worn you out. You must have been exhausted." She smiled, a bit blushing herself. She also had been astonished the night before with what she had been capable of. But the man beside her had surprised her even more in following every path she had led him. He had been quite amazing.

"Never felt so alive ever. But what was that last night?"

"Sorry, Martin. I sort of got carried away. You should have stopped me, you know?"

"Just in case you didn't notice, I was very soon past the option of protest." She giggled.

"And you are the man who has to do all things intellectually?"

"No, Louisa. I'm not. Last night…I didn't know it was possible. It was - WEIRD. For the first time I understood the expression '_Losing your mind'_."

"I couldn't believe what you let me do – or that I did it. Must have been the emotional stress and maybe some leftover anger from our row earlier." She started to stroke him, ran her fingernails softly over his chest, his stomach.

"If that's the way you wish to punish me, I won't complain."

Suddenly she realised that he was still pretty keen. There was no doubt about that whatsoever. She inspected the evidence more closely with her fingertips. He blushed a bit but revelled at her touch.

"Don't tell me you're lying next to me all night thinking this? I thought you were quite done with."

"I was starving. And it is only after you taste some food, you realise how hungry you are."

"So you still have some appetite, then?" Louisa purred.

"Mm"

"Even after that feast last night?"

"I'm afraid so."

"So what would you say to a little snack, just a small bite on the way? I think I could go for a nice juicy sausage." And with that she showed him what was on the menu.

He enjoyed his simple meal very much, and she served him right and plenty. When he sank down onto the bed this time, he was a lot calmer. Afterwards, they both dozed off again, cuddled together.

_To be continued..._


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

An hour and a half later, Louisa had just finished her shower. Martin had taken his turn afterwards, while she was dressing.

Louisa heard a shout from the bathroom. "Just look what you've done!" She hurried to see what had happened. He looked at his mirror image worriedly, especially at a bruise on his neck. It was quite revealing. And there was no chance that he could hide it, unless he wore a scarf in bright summer.

"I'm sorry." She giggled. He turned towards her, looking seriously into her eyes.

"I am not. Honest, I'm not."

She beamed at him and held him close. Cuddled into his chest she peeked upwards to see his face. "I promise, next time I try to restrain myself to the more hidden parts."

"You want to do this again!" Eddie Rix's injury record popped into his mind.

"Don't worry, Martin. I won't be that rough with you anymore. But maybe on special occasions...if you don't mind it too much..."

"But only when were away from home. I don't want nosy neighbours or - heaven forbid - Peter to hear me shout like this. And I can't promise discretion when you behave that way..." Now he was also smiling and bent over to kiss her head.

For a while they stayed in the embrace. Then she reached up to gently caress his wound.

"They will tease you, you know that?"

"Who will?"

"Your colleagues." London was so far away at the moment. Worlds apart. He was quiet for some time considering the fact.

"I don't mind."

"Sure?"

"They laugh about me anyway. So...who cares?" Louisa was a bit sad at that remark as it showed that he still didn't get the appreciation he deserved. "But now they actually have a reason to ridicule me. But strangely enough - I don't think they will come to the right conclusion." There was no chance, he realised, that they could imagine him...Louisa was surprised that he actually chuckled. "You know, Louisa, wherever I see them gathering to laugh about me, I will smile, as I will remember..."

"I couldn't believe you went for it."

"Cant believe it now, either. But I have to admit..."

"Don't say you liked it?" Louisa interrupted him, staring at him now.

"It was strange, but quite exciting actually." This time there was a definite laugh when he said that. Louisa looked at him in disbelief. Martin felt uncomfortable about her looking at him that way.

"I know it's hard to believe... but... what are you...don't look at me like that"

"No, Martin, it's not what you said. But what was that?"

"What?" Martin hadn't noticed anything.

"It was - almost - was that a laugh?" Martin hesitated. Actually, yes, it had sounded that way.

"Eeehm...don't know, what do you think?"

"I can't remember hearing you laugh ever."

"I can't remember laughing, ever." Louisa looked at him.

"Surely, as a kid, or in your student days...There must have been times..."

"Oh Louisa, don't talk about those times. I certainly hadn't had much to laugh about then!"

"So what you're saying is that this shy attempt of a laugh was your first ever?"

"If I remember correctly."

"You're sure good for a surprise this weekend! Stay that way, it is very becoming."

"But only if I don't get any more bruises for it!"

"I'll try, but I promise nothing!" With that Louisa broke away to go downstairs to prepare breakfast.

The breakfast itself was again mostly enjoyed in silence. Louisa noticed that Martin inspected his neck several times with his fingers. Louisa was glad that she had stayed the weekend. She missed Peter terribly, and was looking forward to sweeping him into her arms, but it had been so important to clear up all of these issues – and to get really close again.

One thing worried her though, and she would address this last thing, before they had to say goodbye to this lovely cottage, which almost turned out to be a confessional.

Having cleared away the dishes, they returned to the patio. Cornish weather turned out again to be pretty benevolent. A perfect day for a picnic. Louisa and Martin stood next to each other, both looking over that lovely coast. Not looking at Martin, Louisa asked:

"Can you remember the last time we were so close?"

"We never were that close."

"You know what I mean – so _intimate_."

"I don't know what you mean?"

"Oh Martin, the last time we finally reached the stage of sleeping together – occasionally…"

"You can hardly say that about this weekend – _occasionally_…" Martin remarked.

"The point is – the last time it ended quite disastrously." Short silence. "Are you sure it will work this time?"

"Things are different now."

"That's what I want to know. Are they really?" Martin looked at her worriedly. Louisa turned towards him, and finally got her question off her chest. "What I mean is – why did you really call off the wedding? And why is that not important anymore?"

"I told you then."

"Because you didn't think we would make each other happy?"

"That's not exactly what I said."

"You said, you won't make me happy, and then added that I wouldn't make you happy either. Sounds pretty much the same to me."

"Skip the last part. That was just a cover up."

"But why did you decide on that day that this was an issue?"

Martin realised that he had to explain in more detail. Louisa wasn't happy with his answer.

"Look, the stupid Parson I had to fetch as a replacement..:"

"Porter."

"What?"

"His name is Porter."

"Whoever. When I tried to persuade him to marry us, he asked me what the most important question should be before I was to marry. I said, _does she make me happy._ He told me I was close, but got it actually the wrong way around. What really counts in the end would be, if _I can make you happy_."

"And you decided there and then that you wouldn't?"

"No. Not immediately. But the question haunted me. I realised that I never made anyone happy. That maybe I didn't understood happiness in a way most people did. And remembered how unhappy I made you."

"And now you think you can make me happy?"

"No, Louisa. I still don't think so. I still think you deserve someone better."

"Oh."

"But I know now that I am _extremely_ unhappy without you."

"And that counts more for you now?"

"No! Don't take it that way. But I realised that all I can do is offer myself to you. Try my best to be the best partner for you that I can be. And then I have to respect your decision. If you won't take the risk, I will understand completely and respect that, although I would regret it of course. If you _are_ willing to take the risk, then it is your choice. I have to accept that. I can't protect you from being unhappy by making the decision for you."

"I understand." Martin looked at her. Would it be right to ask her in return? Her letter at that time had not been very revealing about her motive. He honestly would love to know. So he finally returned the question.

"I'm afraid I wasn't so altruistic at all, Martin. I had spent the whole afternoon with the people who should be helping me with my wedding. Everything went quite alright, until Isobel had to go and damage her eye with that damned party popper. To be honest, she wasn't really impressed by you after she returned from your surgery."

"Oh?"

"I'm sorry. But that's how it was. When she started to talk about it, everyone was joining in to speak ill of you. I found myself defending you against everyone. And these were people that were actually supposed to support our marriage! I wasn't sure if I really had the wish _or_ the strength to defend you all my life."

"I see."

"Sorry, Martin."

"But now – what's now?"

"Actually, I found myself defending you ever since anyhow. Still, now and then someone makes a malicious remark about me having to raise Peter alone. And I still defend you. So I ended up doing it nevertheless, without having the advantages of being with you."

"Thank you." Martin uttered almost inaudibly.

"So – these problems are out of the way now? On both sides?" Martin nodded. He certainly never wanted to loose her again. Ever.

But there was one big challenge ahead of him. How could he survive this horrid picnic? He felt sure that he would mess it up completely. Louisa would not forgive him, if he did.

_To be continued…_


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Louisa had noticed that Martin had been more silent again this morning, and looked decidedly worried by now. She guessed correctly that he was afraid about meeting Peter. She thought maybe it would be best to distract him. So she suggested, given that they had just a few more hours in this lovely cottage that it would be best to clean everything so as to make it ready for them to leave. But Martin stopped her.

"Don't waste your time with that. I'm staying until tomorrow. I will do it later."

"So what shall we do now then? Do you want to take another walk?"

"I don't know."

"Let's just sit on the patio, shall we?"

They sat together in silence for quite some time. Finally, Louisa broke the silence.

"I want to thank you."

"What for?"

"This weekend. It was a lovely idea."

"I have to thank you. For staying. You made it a success."

"Don't sell yourself short. I know how much you hate talking. And I bet you doubled or even tripled the amount you ever said to me before these few days."

"Well, Whitby helped me to get used to it. Not that I like it. But when I think it's necessary, I can do it."

"Speaking of Whitby. Do you think he would mind if I call him, maybe?"

"What on earth for?" Martin felt a bit alarmed. He surely didn't want her to know everything he had told Whitby.

"To thank him. And maybe get some advice myself. I suppose we won't have an easy time always. Maybe I need some help. He seems to be an extraordinary man."

"He's married.

"Thanks _very _much for that information. That was not in the least what I meant."

"Sorry."

"Please ask him when you see him. Promise?"

"Promise."

Again they sat in silence. Louisa had reached over, because she had noticed that Martin hands did tremble slightly. She wanted to assure him that everything would be OK. It was already past noon when Louisa finally got up to get her things ready. When she returned downstairs, with her suitcase packed, Martin picked up the car keys and started to rush out.

"Wait. Just a moment." Martin did as he was told, but instead of taking in the beautiful views, Louisa came to him, pulled his head down and declared that she wanted to say goodbye properly.

"We won't have a chance with Peter and Joan around, and I have to wait until Friday to have _this_ again." To define '_this_', she kissed him soundly and ran her fingers through his hair. Then she looked at him intensely. Finally Martin felt uneasy.

"What are you staring at?"

"I have to get your new image into my head. I don't want to pick up the wrong man on Friday!"

"Very amusing."

"I will wait for you on the platform. Just send me an SMS or call to tell me when you'll arrive. Oh, and Martin. I thought about what you've been saying. And I guess I wasn't quite honest." Martin raised an eyebrow. "Not just with you, I'm afraid I wasn't quite honest with myself in the first place. I guess I'm not as independent as I like to believe. I wouldn't know how to cope without Joan's help. I guess I do need help."

"I would like to, but I don't know if I can."

"Let's try and find out, shall we?"

Again, they kissed passionately.

"It's time to go now." Louisa said softly when they broke apart.

_To be continued…_


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Martin was very quiet on their way to the meeting point, even for his standards. Louisa just gave the directions now and then, but didn't feel it was right to say anything herself. When they finally reached the car park nearest to the picnic spot, Joan's pickup was already there.

"They're already waiting for us." Louisa stated.

"Mmm." was the only answer she received. It was beyond Louisa why he had to take everything so seriously. It was a big moment for him, she admitted, but it should be one to look forward to, not to dread.

Louisa led the way to where the picnic would be. They had to walk for about 15 minutes, before they could make out two figures on a blanket in the near distance. Martin gulped. Louisa noticed that his eyes widened with fear again and took his hand and squeezed it. He stared at the slowly approaching point where two people were waiting for him. Two people that were his family. Two people whom he had ignored out of fear. He had to fight hard not to let fear gain the upper hand again, but Louisa's firm grip didn't allow any escape. He tried to concentrate on her hand. He looked down at Louisa. She gave him her lovely smile and assured him quietly that everything would be alright. Not to worry. Everything always seemed so easy for her.

By now, Joan had looked up and seen them approaching. Martin saw her say something to the little fellow, but they were not in earshot yet. Aunty Joan heaved herself up with some difficulty. He should check if she was taking care of herself, especially with her osteoporosis. He had neglected her too. Now, Joan had taken Peter by the hand, and they both came towards them. "Come on, you can do it. Trust me." Louisa's words made Martin realise that he had stopped. By now he could make out the little boy, walking towards them as fast as his little legs would carry him, soft blond hair waving in the wind. By now Louisa had let Martin's hand go to run towards her little son. She rushed to him, and soon swept him off the ground, smiling broadly.

"Marty, is that you?" Joan greeted her nephew rather gruffly.

Louisa tried to make her stop with gestures out of Martin's sight. The last thing she needed was to enhance Martin's insecurity! Why could no one in this family follow the simplest rules of courtesy? Joan had a heart of gold, but her tongue was rather sharp. Louisa noticed that Martin was uncomfortably shifting around, looking for the nearest way out.

To make things worse, Peter was rather grumpy, as he wasn't used to being parted from Louisa for more than a few hours and had felt decidedly neglected. So Louisa had a tough job – trying to soothe Peter and assure him that mummy was back to stay, stopping Joan from picking on Martin, and circumventing Martin from excusing himself as fast as he could.

Holding Peter, she came to Joan and told her decidedly in a quiet voice to behave herself. Martin just found his voice to utter "Aunty Joan" but otherwise stood nailed to the spot, stiff as a stick.

When Joan started to say "What happened…" she was shushed by Louisa, who very resolutely told her to "Stop it!"

Trying to make Martin relax a bit, she prattled on about the beautiful spot and how they usually having a day out when the weather's nice. Martin just stared at the child. _His _childboy. Louisa was right. There was no doubt about it – the blond hair, definitely the same shade as his before he had turned greyish. Big eyes of a light blue colour. Even the ears stuck out more than normal. Peter clung to his mother, and looked shyly over at him. Obviously he didn't like strangers. He seemed to have inherited this from his father, too. He tried to get used to the idea – that this was _his_ son.

Suddenly Aunty Joan couldn't help herself and burst out with "How come you suddenly remembered that you have a family down here?"

Louisa sighed. Martin was startled, as he had been absorbed in trying to get used to the idea of being the father of this little chap. He had no idea how he should feel, but there was definitely something odd about seeing so much of himself in such a tiny person. So he just looked puzzled when Joan addressed him and started to stutter something about it taking time.

"You surely took your time, didn't you?"

"Joan!" Louisa scolded the older woman. Trying to lighten up the tone she added "Shouldn't we be glad that we are all together now, one family at last."

"If it suits him." Joan grunted. Louisa decided to ignore Joan and try to distract Martin instead so that he wouldn't pay too much attention to his Aunt's comments.

Peter had settled down a bit emotionally and had already managed a smile.

"Peter, look who's here? It's your Daddy. He missed you so much that he came all the _looong_ way from London just to see you." Joan made some unintelligible noises of disapproval.

"Martin, why don't you say something?"

"Eeehh…what?"

Louisa sighed. "As I told you yesterday?"

"Eeehm….well…right." He cleared his throat, and continued in Peter's direction rather stiffly: "What is your name?" Louisa rolled her eyes. It sounded so rehearsed. In response, Peter just clung to his Mummy.

"I don't think it will work." Martin verbalised his doubts.

"Martin, we won't give up so easily. Just try to sound a bit more…_human_…when you talk to him."

A quizzical look from Martin showed that he had no idea what she meant.

"You just sounded as if you recited something you learned by heart. Not as if you are actually talking to someone."

"But you did tell me to ask these questions!"

"Just for you to get an idea what to talk about, not to be repeated word-for-word." Towards Peter she said. "He's just a bit shy, just as you are."

"Louisa!" Martin exclaimed indignantly

"What?" Turning towards Peter, Louisa continued, saying "There is nothing wrong with that, is there? We understand completely, don't we?" Peter smiled. His mummy always understood. "We have to try to make it easy for him, don't we? He really means well." Towards Martin. "Don't you."

"Of course I do!"

Turning back to Peter she said. "Your Daddy is really a great guy. He is needed in London. He has to be away from us a lot. Whenever someone is not well and is really poorly, they need him down there to fix them. He can fix almost everything." She smiled towards Martin. "Many people would have lost their lives without him."

Peter looked at Martin. Then he dug into his pocket and held a small fire engine in his little hand and presented it to Martin. "If you can fix everything, can you fix this? It fell and now the wheels are not right."

Louisa laughed. "Oh, Peter. Normally he fixes people!" But Martin stopped her.

"Wait. Let me see." He felt more comfortable to assess something practical. He took the miniature car out of his son's hand and looked at it carefully.

"The axle seems to be broken. I just need some sort of pin. Then it should be possible."

Peter smiled at him "Really?"

"Well, I can't do it here. I need the material and some tweezers. If I can take it down to London, you can have it back next week. Promise."

"Martin, do you really think you can do it?"

"Shouldn't be too difficult."

"Do you have experience with this sort of things?"

"I doubt that it is more difficult than repairing a clock."

"You never made that work."

"Just because that nutty friend of your father shot at it!" Martin retorted in a high-pitched voice.

Peter giggled at that. "He shot a clock?"

Louisa turned to Peter. "He wasn't quite right here." And tipped his head. "But also then, your father solved it. It was one of your more heroic moments." She said towards Martin.

"He simply got on my nerves, that's all."

"Did he fix him?" Peter asked.

"There was no way that he could be fixed, but your daddy stopped him from hurting someone. Your mummy might have been hurt if it hadn't been for him."

"I don't want to disturb the Mutual-Admiration-Society, but maybe we should get something to eat? I didn't stand in the kitchen for hours for nothing." Joan interrupted.

"You're right. Peter is quite hungry, aren't you?" Louisa turned towards her son, knowing it was safe to suppose that he was ready to eat, as it was his favourite activity.

While they walked towards the picnic blanket, Louisa chatted to Joan.

"Did you bring plenty of Martin's favourites?"

"Don't know about his favourites. But there should be plenty – sandwiches, salads, a cake, strawberries, tea and all."

"Great. Thanks very much.

Coming towards the picnic spot, Louisa twirled Peter around before sitting him onto the blanket. She turned to Peter, and together they explored the goodies Aunty Joan had packed. Slowly all of the treats were laid out in the open.

"Yummy, a ham sandwich. Isn't that something little Pete likes?"

Peter's little stubby fingers reached out to it immediately. All the time Louisa kept chatting with Peter. Martin watched in awe. He was sure that he would never be able to connect with Peter that way. He had felt so awkward. What should he say to someone who had not the slightest idea what he was talking about? Most adults didn't understand him, so how should a child be able to? But seeing this miniature version of him, being fussed over by Joan and Louisa made him feel happy for his son. He wouldn't lack attention. Still, Martin couldn't quite see how he himself would fit in. The three of them were just a perfect team. So he watched the two women handling Peter, trying to get a clue how to react to him.

He had been so absorbed in observation that he hadn't eaten a single bite. Suddenly he realised that Joan addressed him. "Marty, Louisa made such a fuss that I bring your favourites down. I don't know why when you haven't even touched them?"

"Eeeehm…sorry. Not very hungry. Funny feeling in the stomach."

Louisa guessed where that came from, but Martin hadn't seemed to draw the right conclusion. Well, it wasn't in his field of expertise at all.

"Here, a chicken sandwich won't do any harm. Maybe you just need a bite." Louisa forced him to take some food. There was no way he should miss another meal. He needed feeding up a bit. As Joan also filled a plate with some salad, he thanked his '_Aunty Joan_'. Suddenly little Peter protested.

"But that's _my_ Aunty Joan." Martin was puzzled. There had never been anyone else referring to his aunt that way, but even he realised that _great-aunty_ would sound odd. So he turned to Peter.

"Actually, she's my Aunty, too. I guess we have to share her." Louisa smiled. For the first time there was a glimpse of hope that all three of them might turn out all right. Peter looked puzzled.

"Is she someone else's Aunty, too?"

"No, we two are the only ones."

"That's OK, then."

"Thanks very much."

And turning towards Joan.

"Aunty Joan, thank you for helping me this weekend. I wouldn't have had anyone else to turn to. I hope looking after Peter was not too stressful. I noticed, you've got problems with your osteoporosis again?"

"The new doc says no. Just old age, I'm afraid."

"I'd prefer if you'd go to another doctor for a second opinion. You can't be too careful..:"

"Marty, I certainly have better things to do than driving around all day wasting my time with doctors. You haven't bothered about it for almost two years now, so why would it be of any interest now."

"That's not fair. I wrote to you asking how you were. You said fine."

"I _am_ fine. Just my back's troubling me. But that's not your problem, is it?"

Louisa could see that Joan hadn't forgiven Martin for leaving. It would be best to interrupt any further conversation. Luckily, Peter had just started to turn towards the strawberries. As it was his habit, he tried to feed Louisa with some too. So after he had pleasurably consumed one, he held one over to Louisa. Louisa picked it up with her mouth, and said. "Hmmmh, yummy! But maybe your Daddy likes strawberries too." Peter looked puzzled. He hadn't connected this stranger with _Daddy_ yet. Louisa pointed over to a horrified Martin. But Peter was a good boy, and soon reached for another berry to present to his Daddy. If Mummy said so.

"Oh, I don't think so. Honestly, I'd rather not. I can take one myself, right?" But Peter was visibly disappointed that his offer was declined, so Martin reluctantly bent over to let this little fellow put a strawberry into his mouth. Being a dad really wasn't easy.

When they were all filled up, Joan took Peter by the hand and left for a little walk. "We'll leave you two to it." she said, before she and Peter trotted off, happily chatting with each other.

Martin and Louisa looked towards each other.

"Louisa, you're so wonderful. How you get along with Peter is quite amazing."

"There's nothing to it, really. The parenting instinct kicked in as soon as I held that little bundle for the first time. And he's such a lovely child."

"I watched you. But I…I don't think I will ever even remotely be able to connect with Peter in the same way."

"You don't have to act exactly the same. You're different. Just find your own way."

"How? He's not very happy being with me. He'd rather be with you."

"He's very shy. I wonder where that comes from." She smiled over to Martin. "And he doesn't know you. That'll wear off when you visit more often. Just give him some time."

"But won't I always be the one who keeps him away from his Mum?"

"Not when he learns to like to be with you."

Martin didn't look convinced at all. "Look, Martin. I think there was some progress today."

"You do?"

"When you explained to him about Joan being your _Aunty_, too. That was quite good how you handled that."

Martin looked relieved. "Really?"

"You talked _to _Peter, treated him as a person, and you didn't use any complicated words or long sentences. So, he understood you and could react to what you were saying."

"I see."

"Look. It wouldn't help Peter if we both do exactly the same. Maybe, when you found your way with him, we might complement each other perfectly."

"Let's hope so, but I have my doubts."

By now, Joan and Peter were approaching again. Louisa went to meet them and picked Peter up, carrying him back towards Martin.

"Joan, did you bring his ball, too?"

"I sure did, just like any other picnic."

"Ball?" Martin asked a bit alarmed.

"We always play ball with Peter after a picnic, gives him some exercise."

"I see."

"I bet you don't mind to join us." Louisa didn't ask, but stated it as a fact.

_To be continued…_


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Martin looked around a bit panicky, until he finally found the way out, he thought. "But we can't, it's far too dangerous on the cliff tops."

"Don't be silly, Martin, we know that. Look over there, there is a reasonably flat spot, and it's safe enough, as the ball can hardly roll all the way up to reach the cliff tops."

"Right."

Louisa picked the ball out of the bag, then the whole group headed downhill a bit. Louisa started to play a bit of toddler-suited football-sort of game. She made sure that Martin got the ball quite often. He didn't seem to be too good at coordinating his feet and it looked a bit odd seeing him running after the ball, but it was safe to say that he took good care that nothing could happen to Peter. Peter was enjoying himself. After they played for a considerable time, Louisa declared the game to be finished and picked up the ball.

"Joan, we had better get the picnic packed together. I don't think it is necessary for Peter to go up the hill with us. It's easier for us when he doesn't interfere."

Martin was puzzled. "What shall Peter do, in your opinion? Sit here and wait?"

"Why don't you hold him now?"

"Eeeeh…I don't know. He looks quite happy being with you. I don't think I should…I could…"

"For heaven's sake, Marty! You are surely able to hold your own son, you stupid boy!" Peter looked anxiously towards Joan. He wasn't used to excited voices like this.

"Joan, this is _not_ helping." Louisa hissed through her teeth.

"Look, Martin. I'll just hand him over. Remember, what I told you. Support his bottom here – yes, that's right, just like this, and now you need to support his back. You see, it wasn't that difficult at all, was it?" She had managed to place Peter into Martin's arms. But the success was a mixed one. Peter and Martin looked equally unhappy, both seeking help in looking towards Louisa. Two pairs of the same blue eyes pleading to get them out of their misery.

"Louisa, I think he'd rather be with you. Don't you think…" Martin tried to hand Peter over, and Peter eagerly reached for his Mum.

Aunty Joan and Louisa sighed in perfect unison. Joan reached over to relieve Peter from his ordeal, but Louisa stopped her. "They will get used to each other. Just give them some time. It'll never work if we stop it just because one or both of them feel uncomfortable." Looking over at Martin, who didn't like what he heard at all, Louisa checked if he held Peter safely. Seeing that no physical danger was likely, she linked arms with Joan and led her away, saying over her shoulder towards Martin: "Maybe our two men just need some time to themselves."

"Louisa! You can't possibly leave me alone! Not with this child!"

"_Your _child, Martin. And you're hardly alone. We are just a few steps away. Try to humour Pete a bit."

Martin stared after Louisa, then he stared at his son. Pete couldn't stop reaching out for his Mummy, who was leaving him again. Peter started to whimper quietly.

"Look, I am really sorry. This is all my fault. She wants to teach me a lesson, don't take it personally." Peter looked towards the voice. Of course he had no idea what this '_Daddy_' was talking about. "I see, you'd rather be with your mother. I understand completely. I always feel the same." Martin said, more talking to himself, really, but as he didn't feel under supervision, he spoke more naturally, and the sound of his voice made Peter feel less uneasy about this strange presence as he had before, so he stopped crying. Martin noticed, feeling a bit relieved. So he turned to his son once more. "Look. She just wants to check if we can get along. As soon as we both look comfortable, you can go back to your Mummy, so try to look happy, and you'll have your Mummy back. I promise. I know I'm not good at this, but for your own sake."

A couple of yards away, Louisa had a word with Joan. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What do you mean? I was merely asking.."

"Do you realise how much it had taken him to come this far, and how easily he can be scared away?"

"Oh, come on. He's a grown man. And you can't possibly defend him deserting you for so long. Out of the blue he suddenly decides…"

"Joan. There's more to it, and I'll explain to you later, but now is not the time. Just try to be sociable, will you? No criticism, just for today, please. And if you can't think of something nice to say, just don't say anything at all."

"Alright."

Talking like this, they packed all of the things from the picnic into the basket. Finally the cliff tops looked clean again as if no one had been there.

"Now - Let's see how our men are going along."

Looking over to father and son, she saw Martin talking to Peter quietly. Peter was listening. Even if he didn't look too pleased, at least he didn't seem to be scared any longer either. So Louisa decided it was time to rescue them both. Joan and Louisa walked towards their two men.

"I think Peter is getting tired and I need to feed my chickens. I'm sorry to be the one to say it, but I'd rather go back soon." Joan stated. Putting Peter down carefully on to the ground Martin inquired.

"Aunty Joan, do you still have your farm?"

"Sure I do. How would I earn my living otherwise?"

"And when you looked after Peter?"

"He was at my farm, of course.

Martin looked disgusted and turned towards Louisa. "You don't let him run around among all these animals, do you?"

"Being with animals teaches children a sense of responsibility. It's actually very good for their development."

"Nonsense. They'll just catch some nasty diseases. Those creatures are covered with bugs of all sorts!"

"And that enhances the immune system, as you should know. Far less allergies in children who have pets than in those of an almost sterile environment."

"Marty, we managed quite well without your expertise until now without killing Peter. He is a very healthy child. So, if you've just come back to mess around with our lives, then you better bugger off again!"

"Joan!" Louisa interrupted, but Joan wasn't to be stopped so easily. "I won't stand here and let him insult my home, while he had done _nothing_ whatsoever for the boy!"

Peter was now definitely confused by the agitated voices, and was hiding behind Louisa and started to whimper a bit. While Joan and Louisa were still engaged in their little argument, it was Martin who noticed this first. Squatting down to be at the same height as Peter he started to comfort him. Soon Peter calmed down and Louisa stared at the two of them in amazement.

"Thanks Martin. That was really good." Louisa lauded him. She decided that she would comment on everything he did right. Maybe he would grow more confident that way.

Martin beamed at her. "Really?"

"Yes. You know, you're getting the knack already." Martin blushed. "But Joan's right about one thing – Peter actually loves being on the farm, and he likes animals. Just because you don't, there's no reason to keep him away from them. I'm afraid you'll have to accept that."

Martin didn't like that at all, but realised that he had no right – just yet – to protest.

Louisa turned to Joan. "Can you go ahead to the car with Peter?"

"Come on, Peter, we know when we're in the way. By Marty." Peter was reluctant to go. He feared his Mummy would desert him again. Only when Louisa picked him up and assured him that she'll be with him in a moment, he let himself be led away.

Louisa faced Martin. "Time to say goodbye."

In response Martin just took Louisa into a close embrace. He whispered almost inaudibly "I thank you. I thank you so _very_ much."

Joan looked back just now, and seeing the two of them so close, she shook her head lightly. One part of her liked the idea of them coming together again. The other part was still cross with Martin for neglecting his responsibilities for so long. This part thought that Louisa had let him back into their lives too easily. She knew how hard Louisa had taken the break-up and feared she would just be hurt again.

By now, the couple had broken apart.

"Promise to let me know when you arrive in Truro, won't you?"

"Sure. I will call as soon as I book the train."

"So you're still sure that you'll come down on Friday?"

"Definitely."

"Good-bye then."

"Bye."

"Have a safe journey."

"Same." By now Joan was growing impatient, especially as Peter was growing tired. So she shouted towards the two of them, and waved to make clear that it was time to go. Louisa reluctantly left Martin, who stared after his family, making its way to the car to drive off in the opposite direction to him. But at least their paths would cross again pretty soon.

Finally Martin got to his car himself and headed towards the cottage. He loved the place by now. It was connected with so many happy memories, but now it felt empty.

To keep his mind busy, he started to tidy up and clean everything downstairs to leave it in the best possible condition. There would be no use in continuing upstairs, as he would still need those rooms. So he was finished quite soon . Sitting down on the patio, he watched over the coast. However, it wasn't the same without her. For some time he succeeded in reliving the memories.

Soon, he grew tired. The last night hadn't provided much sleep, he remembered with a smile. So he got ready for bed, where he could still smell her. Content and happy he fell asleep and slept well until the late morning. Again, the child was in his dreams, but this time it was a blond boy who was smiling shyly towards him with big blue eyes.

_To be continued…_


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

When Louisa had left the picnic, she sat in the car next to Joan in silence. First Joan just peeked over a couple of times, seeing Louisa lost in thoughts, waiting to get some information. Finally her curiosity got the better of her, and she asked: "So everything went hunky-dory, did it?

"Actually, he was quite sweet"

"Sweet? Are we talking about the same Martin Ellingham?"

"I'm not quite sure, to be honest."

"You must know with whom you have spent the last four days, surely."

"Yes. But he has changed. Not that he's completely different, but I don't know-he allows himself to be weak-takes the risk of being rejected-a bit more sensitive."

Joan glanced over to Louisa. "Are you REALLY sure we are talking about my nephew?"

"You've just met him, remember. Despite everything, it was Martin Ellingham. But you're right, it IS difficult to grasp."

For quite some time they drove in complete silence, but the subject on their minds was the same. Louisa broke the quietude.

"He said he has had some therapy." She had considered if she should tell Joan, but decided that she ought to know. Martin had given her permission to confide in Joan, within reasonable limits.

Joan stared towards Louisa and almost lost control over the car.

"Easy! Easy! Look, I don't think it's a good idea to talk it over now. Do you have some time to spare to talk things through? Martin agreed that I had to talk to someone to get things straight, but insisted that it should be no one but you. He trusts you, you know?"

"Sounds like a very interesting conversation. We'll have to fix a date some time soon."

"Please make it before Friday."

"What's then?"

"HE is coming over for the weekend."

Joan's mouth stayed open. "Again? It's a hell of a journey from London down here!"

"I told you, he is serious about it."

"Where will you meet?"

"My place."

"Gives the nosy neighbours something to gossip about. He knows that, doesn't he?"

"He says he doesn't care."

Joan threw a knowing look towards Louisa.

"Yeah, I know. One funny remark and he will hit the roof. But if we are going to move on somehow, we'll have to face the village at some point. He knows I belong to Portwenn. He doesn't want me down in London anyway."

"Why's that, you suppose?"

"I don't know. He says he doesn't like it down there. I didn't either."

"And you're sure there is no other reason? A reason that lured him down there in the first place?"

Louisa looked over to Joan. "No. I asked him and he assured me that there is nothing and that there hasn't been anything going on since medical school and I believe him."

"Say about Marty what you like, but he is a terrible liar. If he had lied, you would have noticed right away. You're right."

As they came to a nasty stretch of single-track road, Joan grew silent to concentrate. As soon as they were on more comfortable streets, she addressed Louisa again.

"What was that on Marty's neck, by the way?"

Louisa just laughed in response.

"Oh, it's that, is it? As I thought. Don't you think you're getting too close too quickly again? Rushing things never did you any good."

"That's what Martin said, but I just needed him. He made so many confessions, tried to explain so much – and I know how he hates this sort of thing. All for me. I had to reward him. Besides, I longed for him, more than I admitted. Seeing him, and handsome like that, made me realised how much I really missed him."

"You shushed me when I tried to mention that to Marty, but I never saw him remotely like this. Since his ghastly school put him into suits, I can't remember him wearing anything else. And he missed a couple of trims, I'd say."

Louisa smiled, thinking of him "He thought I might like it. Wanted to impress me. Sure did."

"All the effort – after two years? What took so long?"

"The therapy, as far as I understood."

Joan looked over in disbelief. It was the first case she knew of that someone needed medical attention to start a family.

"You know, Joan, I had tried to move on, forget about him. But it didn't seem right to be with someone else. I always thought what Martin might do in the same situation and it wasn't fair to any other man to be compared all the time. And during this weekend I realised that now, there won't be a chance for anyone else ever. Have you ever met _anyone_ who put so much effort into a relationship as Martin had to make this weekend possible?"

"After leaving you pretty much alone before. Don't paint everything rosy-red now. He won't always be that way."

"Hope not. That _would_ be scary." Louisa exclaimed. "No. I don't expect that from him. I'm not even sure that I would like that. But the fact that he surpassed himself, just to win me back – it's quite flattering."

"He always loved you to pieces, but you surely knew that."

"I suppose I did, but only being stared at isn't enough. He never contributed towards making any progress, just waited for me to drag him forward and then come stumbling back again. It was too one-sided. I appreciate that he doesn't push me, but I made it clear, that he can make suggestions, can vocalise his wishes. If I don't want to, I'll say no – and I can be sure, that he will respect that."

"I realised one thing this weekend. I have always loved Martin because he's such an extraordinary man. He does the most amazing things, seemingly effortlessly, and then again, he can't do the simplest things that everyone else can and I'm angry about that. But that's really two sides of the same coin. He can't be extraordinary one moment, when it suits me, and then again act ordinary, when that's my liking. It simply isn't fair. I have to take the whole package – or nothing at all. I tried nothing at all now, and it didn't work."

"Joan, to be honest, I need someone. I can't live alone forever. And I can't see that I can be with someone else ever again. So we have to make things work. I don't know how he's managed it, living in celibacy for decades."

"Maybe he's not as passionate as you are."

Louisa laughed. "I wouldn't say that."

Joan looked over in curiosity, but Louisa continued. "Sorry, but Martin only gave permission to talk things over with you within '_reasonable limits'_, and I'm pretty sure they end at the bedroom door."

Joan could hardly imagine her nephew… But remembering the bruise she started to see Marty in a new light.

"So if that wouldn't do – and you should know, I suppose – maybe he's just so used to not getting what he wants, and even needs, that he's learned not to want anything. I'm not only talking about this particular field, but for all his life he was always rejected when he stated his wishes. Maybe if you can't stand the disappointment any longer, you stop wishing."

"That sounds more likely to me." Louisa confirmed. "He hardly dared to ask to see his son."

_To be continued…_


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

"Joan?" Louisa had been sitting in silence for quite a while, staring blindly through the windows, lost in her thoughts. "What was Martin's father like?"

"Was? He is not a thing of the past, at least not yet unfortunately." The last word alarmed Louisa. Although Joan tended to be brusque and sometimes brutally honest – there certainly was a family resemblance - she normally was quite positive about people.

"Didn't you meet my _charming_ brother when he visited Martin?"

"No, unfortunately not. I tried to talk to Martin at that time, but he seemed even more unpleasant than usual. I just heard from Mark and Pauline that they were quite impressed."

"That's the trouble with him. Always was. He charms everyone, and before you realise it he has taken advantage of you or you get the blame for something he did. He even fooled me. As if I didn't know him long enough to know better! But I really believed that Marty was in that plot with them about the farm. And that's the trouble with Marty. Before he had composed himself and knew what to say, I had thrown him out already."

"You threw Martin out? When?"

"He didn't tell you anything about the farm?"

"Sorry. Don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't think Marty would like me to tell. He didn't even want _me _to know, that stupid boy. But of course his father couldn't even respect that wish. Glad he did though. I'm not sure if I would be on speaking terms with Marty anymore if he hadn't. If you want any details, ask Marty. Maybe he'll tell you, maybe not. It's up to him. I'll just say that if Marty hadn't stopped his father, we wouldn't be driving to my farm now."

"Your own brother wouldn't have kicked you out of your home, surely!" Louisa protested.

"He wouldn't, would he?" There was a silence, before Joan asked.

"Did Marty tell you anything about his parents, his childhood?"

"No, not really. I picked up some facts, though, and they don't sound too nice. While talking about some really badly behaved children, he let it drop that he had been beaten with a belt or table-tennis bat, and locked up in a cupboard under the stairs regularly. This weekend he mentioned how he hated boarding school…and that his father ruined his life and…" Louisa wasn't sure if she should tell Joan or not.

"And what? His description is quite accurate so far, I'm sorry to say. The poor boy really had quite a lot to put up with. I even think he is quite modest in his complaints. So what else?"

"…he is scared he could do the same to Peter."

"Bollocks! What gave him that idea! He has far more sense of family than his darling father ever had! First of all he's far from being that self-centred bastard that Christopher is. Christopher only remembers his family when he thinks it can be of any use to him. But there's one thing I have to acknowledge my brother for. He married wisely. It's really hard to find some spouse – given his character – where he appears to be favourable in comparison. The shallow, egoistic bitch he married really tops him." Louisa listened with sadness. There was not much information gained, but one thing was for sure – both Martin and Joan were very upset when his parents were mentioned. It was even worse than Louisa had imagined. While she thought about Joan's words, something suddenly caught her attention.

"Why do you say Martin has a sense for family?"

"Well, I'm afraid I don't always value that, and sometimes he is so infuriatingly correct that you can miss it, but if I'm honest he has helped me quite a lot over the last few years, and he does it without being asked, without making any fuss about it either. I just think of the trouble I had when I had that car accident when I wasn't insured, and the ghastly business with the farm. Marty sorted it out for me without hesitation. Even when John, an old flame of mine turned up. Martin who loathed John, nevertheless forced himself to do the decent thing, even when it wasn't easy for him. That's the problem with Marty, Louisa, don't be fooled by him. Always be cautious when he's a true mystery-monger, when he doesn't want to talk about something, chances are he has done something noble. The stupid boy always tries to hide his good deeds, while he says the most horrible things in front of everybody."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It's quite irritating at times. He seems as if he doesn't care a bit about someone, and then you find out by accident that he had actually helped them. Like with Mark and his ill-chosen fiancée. No one had the courage to tell Mark. Martin, who had declared earlier that it is none of our business, actually was the only one to face it and warn Mark that his beloved Julie was a fraud."

"At that time I was so angry with him, that I held even that against him. Silly, really, but why can't he just show his caring side, accept the appreciation of others?"

"I can't say. He was always that way. Look, it's just my guess, and maybe it's complete nonsense, but as far as I know, Marty was disliked all his life – by his parents, his schoolmates, fellow students, colleagues, and even his patients. Maybe …just maybe he feels more comfortable with this. Insults being thrown at him, the hostility they show him – it is something he knows and that he's used to. He knows how to react, because that's what's been happening to him all his life. He simply doesn't know how to handle praise…or love."

"Joan, you know what you're saying? That is bloody awful."

"I guess it is."

"But he must have had someone – a friend?"

"Not that I know of, no."

"Never? Or later some lover?"

"The only one he ever introduced me to was Edith. Horrible woman, as you might well know." Louisa sighed. "I'm pretty sure for him it was his first love. I doubt that she was ever really interested in him – to her he was just a promising student who might be helpful for her later career, and furthermore darn easy to handle. So wonderfully inexperienced and hungry for life. I'd say she pretty much used him and when he had the guts to stand up to her for the first time, she dropped him. I'm pretty sure there was no one else since you…"

"Well, at least it explains why he's so terribly clumsy when it comes to relationships."

"It's all new ground for him, really. Silly to say about a man at his age. But his upbringing and his experiences really scarred him badly. Do you know why my brother had forbidden him to visit me when he was about eleven?"

"I didn't even know that he did."

"Christopher had found out that I had an affair, and he didn't want his son to learn his morals from an unsound person like me!" Louisa rolled her eyes.

"Welcome to the 20th century. No wonder he's so stiff."

"When Martin was down here, it was the only time that he could act like a normal child, at least as much as he was capable of doing so. Otherwise he had the strict school order of his all boys boarding school, one of the toughest ones possible, of course. To make a man out of him. Teach him some discipline. Toughen him up. Bad luck really that he was anything _but _tough. He was a very sensitive, shy and unhappy little boy and he dreaded the company of other children." Joan, for once, stopped herself from mentioning his bed-wetting.

Louisa pitied him, but realised at the same time that this was the last thing he wanted – her sympathy. Maybe that's why he had never told her anything about the past. Now, considering his wishes, she re-thought and decided that she could also be proud of him, to survive this without becoming a homicidal maniac, developing into a very worthy human being.

"Louisa, you realise that you are the first – and most probably only – person who brought something like normal human relations into his life? I've never seen him anything like it before. If he is capable of loving, then he loves you."

"He is, Joan. Maybe more so than I am. Sometimes I just want to have some fun. He can't do that. It's always so dead serious for him. Meaningful. Sometimes it flatters me, but then it can be a burden too."

"Joan, do you think that he can be a father to Pete?"

"Difficult to say. I don't want to fool you, nor flatter him. He had never experienced any parenting at all. I won't call his parents behaviour parenting, not even the worst kind. They were indifferent, and treated him as a nuisance. And he always was so bloody eager to comply, to make them proud of him. Wasted attempts, as they both didn't know how to be proud of anyone but themselves. Even when they visited down here, they still had the power to hurt him. I don't know what happened, but after their visit he was deeply upset. Apart from that he experienced the Victorian morals of his ghastly school. He never had any friends, where he could observe their relationship with their parents either. Later, he had nothing to do at all with children. I bet they are a closed book to him."

"On the other hand, he is quite clever and can learn everything he gets his teeth in. _If_ he is really interested and you take him by the hand and show him what to do and how to do it, he might come to terms with it. I wouldn't leave him alone with Peter just to start with, though. When he gets confused and insecure, he might do something stupid." She realised that Louisa was looking alarmed and she hurried to assure her. "Nothing mean or brutal, mind you. He never showed aggression, but he might ignore him, or act childish himself. I don't know. I just wouldn't risk it until he has some confidence in how to act."

"I think that is the key, Louisa. You have to give him the confidence he needs. While you were pregnant, I spoke to him about it, and he only stated, almost in defeat, that being a father wouldn't come naturally to him, and that you were right to keep him out of it."

Louisa protested. "I didn't have to shut him out. He didn't show interest in the first place!"

"Well, as far as I understood from Marty, you told him on the day you returned that he wasn't to be involved."

"Well, maybe I did, but then I had been shocked to see Edith. And after he mentioned the abortion, I was really fed up. There's no reason to base your whole behaviour on one comment in the heat of the moment."

"But that is basically what he did. Maybe because it rang true to him. When I told him that he should take some interest, he quoted you. I confronted him asking if he was really just doing as he had been told, and he confirmed. I guess you two really caught each other on the hop."

"I suppose so. I just realised it this weekend, really." Louisa said sheepishly.

Soon afterwards they reached Joan's farm, stuffed all of Pete's things in and continued to White Rose Cottage. As '_Mr. Creepy' _had left Portwenn after his breakdown to start again where his strange behaviour wasn't known, Louisa had moved into her own home again.

During the journey, Peter was sleeping soundly in his car seat, exhausted by missing his Mum for so long, being in the fresh air all day and meeting this stranger Mum made such fuss about.

_To be continued…_


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The next morning Martin awoke later than usual. He had slept exceptionally well. He still had to make up for all of those sleepless nights. When he woke up, he could still smell Louisa, he heard the waves and saw the broad daylight bathing the room. However, the most vital part was missing. Without Louisa, the cottage had lost its charm. So he got up, and after performing his morning routine, he quickly cleaned the bedrooms and the bath upstairs, packing everything at the same time, and then made his way downstairs. He had a sandwich on the patio, but even this place seemed strangely altered. He had loved sitting there all the previous days. Now it seemed that it had lost all its cosiness. There was no reason for him to prolong his stay unnecessarily and therefore, he checked everything over before locking the front door for the last time. Loading the car, he drove off without looking back. He stopped only shortly to give the key back to the owner of the cottage, complimenting him on the beautiful spot and the well maintained property. Not even Martin had been able to find a single fault in the accommodation. He headed back to London, in a heightened mood that even a considerable traffic jam around Exeter couldn't dampen. He arrived at the Imperial in the late afternoon.

The first thing next morning, when he started his duty, he dialled the extension of Dr. Whitby. He was not in yet, so Martin asked the secretary to leave a message to call him back. When Whitby arrived at his desk and found the note he started to worry. He wasn't sure if he should call right away, as he had a consultation in just a few minutes, but decided that he was too curious to postpone it. So he was put through to Ellingham.

Martin was looking forward to giving the news to Whitby, but wasn't sure if anyone was in earshot. He certainly didn't want any rumours to spread around by someone overhearing them on the line. So he simply informed Whitby: "It's about your patient – I'd say the outlook is favourable."

"Oh, good. Do you think there is need for any other appointments?" Whitby sensed Martin's apprehension and played along the line.

"I wouldn't say it is necessarily urgent, but it might be helpful if you could have a look in whenever it is convenient."

"I will see if I can squeeze him in at the usual time today? Would that be alright?"

"Fine."

Martin knew but too well that the last weekend would never have been possible without Whitby and he was deeply grateful. He wanted to tell him about the success Whitby had achieved.

During the day, Martin had to catch up with everything that had happened during his short holiday. He could hardly believe how much could be messed up in such a short time, as soon as he hadn't everything under control. He succeeded in insulting even more people than usual. It didn't help to lighten his mood that he found several of his assistant doctors trying hard to stop giggling as soon as he turned a corner. Even without listening attentively to gossip it hadn't escaped Martin that rumours about his bruise on the neck were travelling fast.

Another noticeable change in Ellingham's behaviour didn't help to stop him being topic number one among the staff. For the first time, Ellingham was seen in the canteen. Normally, he hated going there. The food was mediocre, at best, and he could very well do without the whole staff staring at his plate. But he had promised Louisa to take better care of himself. So he had to try not to miss so many meals. He gritted his teeth and queued under the astonished looks of senior and junior staff alike.

After he had withdrawn from his duty, he returned to his little room, preparing tea and waiting for Whitby. For the first time, Martin could hardly await to talk to him. This time, he could remember something wonderful and he burst to be able to tell someone. After what seemed like endless waiting, there was a knock on the door. When Whitby entered, Martin jumped to his feet to grab Whitby's hand with both of his. "Sit down, sit down. Have some tea." Whitby was astonished and pleased to see Ellingham so cheerful. Ellingham had just poured a cup for both of them and seated himself opposite Whitby, Martin's mobile rang. "I'm sorry. I think I should…"

"Don't mind me."

"ELLINGHAM"

"Martin, I just wanted to know if you got home alright."

"Louisa?" Whitby listened more attentively now. "The journey was uneventful."

"How was your day? Did they tease you? You know?"

"A bit. Behind my back, mostly."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be, really. Was Peter too mixed up?"

"Oh, he slept perfectly well. He had a nap on the trip back, and also through the night. He must have been quite exhausted."

"It wasn't too…distressing…for him, was it?"

"No, Martin, don't worry. He's fine."

"Actually, I can't talk long. I'm with Dr. Whitby." But Whitby gestured immediately that there was no need to hurry. In fact, he found it interesting to witness the phone call. Most amazing for him was the way Ellingham's voice had changed as soon as he had realised who was on the phone. He could sense the softening in him immediately. This woman certainly had quite an effect on him.

"Did you ask him if I may call him?"

"Not yet. I will. I promise."

"Do you know when you'll arrive in Truro on Friday?"

"Not yet. I have to fix my schedule for Friday first. I'll call you as soon as I have booked the tickets."

"Please, don't be too long. I miss you."

Martin uncomfortably shifted on the chair, then turned his back to Whitby and whispered into the speaker "I miss you, too."

"Then we'll surely meet on Friday?"

"Definitely."

"Great. Bye then."

"Bye." Then Martin turned around and addressed Whitby in his usual tone "Sorry about that."

"No need to be. It was quite interesting. And it saved my first three questions."

"Did it?" Martin was puzzled.

"Yes. First – did she stay over the weekend? Obviously yes. Will you meet her again? Obviously on Friday. Did she give permission to see your child? I suppose you already did – that's Peter, isn't it?"

"Yes." There was almost something like pride in Martin's voice. "We all went for a picnic on Monday."

"Sounds lovely. So the whole weekend was a success then?"

"Couldn't be better, really."

"_Everything_ was fine?" Whitby couldn't believe that there should be no trouble in paradise all of a sudden.

"We had our rows, and she was quite shocked when she realised that I had lured her down, but she stayed to talk things through. We realised that much of our problem was down to some thorough misunderstandings. We assumed too much – incorrectly mostly – and talked too little."

"You have talked things through now?"

"I guess I never talked as much in my whole life – apart from the sessions with you, of course."

"And she?"

"Explained some things too."

"Why she didn't respond to you?"

"I…My letters sounded too much like a doctor and the money offended her sense of independence. She wanted me as partner, or not at all. She didn't cash in any of the cheques. She's quite stubborn."

"I see."

"I explained about Asperger. By the way. She asked me if she could possibly call you. I had to promise that I'll ask."

"Would you like her to?"

"I certainly don't want her to know how our sessions started. She's quite compassionate and I don't want her to feel sorry for me."

"I understand."

"And I don't think that I want her to know from you what we talked about. I like to decide myself what I tell her and how."

"Don't be too shy in speaking about it with her. You have nothing to be ashamed of. It might be good if she knows."

"Within reason, but I like to be the one telling her."

"Certainly. So you'd rather have me turn down her request?"

"If she wants some information about Aspergers, I don't mind. Maybe she'll need your advice on how to get along with someone like me."

"If it's just to start with, or in case of emergencies, then you can give her my number. But I'm no referee. Understand? You have to learn to handle your affairs among yourselves."

"Sure. We won't pester you. It just seemed important to her."

For some while they were drinking their tea in silence. Whitby was pleasantly surprised. He did have some quite strong objections against this weekend. It could have gone horribly wrong, but as it seemed…

"About your son - how did you get to meet him? Did she offer?"

"Actually, I asked her if I could see him." Ellingham sounded proud that he had dared to. "I didn't request to be introduced as a father, necessarily. Just see him whenever it suited her."

"She gave in?"

"She practically jumped at the suggestion. Came up with the idea of a '_family picnic_' rather quickly."

"How did you feel about it?"

"Scared the life out of me. I wasn't prepared. I didn't dare to hope to see him so soon."

"Did you tell her about your reservation?"

"I did." Whitby was astonished that Ellingham had been able to vocalise his fears towards the woman he wanted to impress so much. He obviously was on the right track.

"How did she react?"

"Assured me it would be alright. That either she or my Aunt would be around in the beginning. That I wouldn't be alone with him."

"Very sensible."

"I told you, she's simply marvellous."

"How would you describe your feelings when you saw your son?"

"I'm…not sure. Difficult to tell, really. I was scared, of course. I didn't want to bugger that up, but was sure that I would. I have to admit that I was quite disappointed to see him."

"Why's that?"

"I hoped I would see something of her in our child."

"And you didn't?"

"I'm afraid…well...as she put it: he's the spitting image of me." Ellingham still didn't seem happy about it.

"Most fathers would be proud."

"But who wants a child like me? And I fear that it's not just the looks. Bad as that might be. He seems to be rather shy, and timid. Not at all like the sociable person Louisa is."

"There's nothing wrong with being a bit on the sensitive side."

"I don't know about sensitive. I'm just afraid he might turn out – unhappy."

"That'll depend on his upbringing. That means you."

"Oh, I'm sure Louisa will make a wonderful job. Peter seemed so happy when he could be with her."

"No. I meant you personally."

"I don't know. What can I do? She's so much better with children. I'm afraid I will just muck up what she's trying to achieve. I doubt that I will ever be able to treat Peter the way she can."

"You don't have to treat him that way. Find your own way."

Martin stared in disbelief at Whitby. "That's _exactly_ what she said."

Slowly Whitby started to change his opinion about this woman. There seemed to be a lot of sense in what she had said.

"You see. She's right."

"But what can I offer that she couldn't? She knows so much about children. She's not a teacher for nothing."

"You say that he might be closer in character to you than to her. So you might understand him better in many ways, especially when he grows older. He will have problems while growing up. Everyone has. You had more problems in your childhood and youth than most people. You've been there, and you came out. You found your way. You have proved that you don't have to give in to your fate. That you are responsible for your own happiness. You have experienced this far more intensely than most people. Just never forget it and don't be ashamed to tell your son about it, when he might be in a similar situation. You can offer him all this."

"You really think so? He didn't like to be with me. Seemed to feel awkward. I really felt sorry for him that Louisa insisted that we should spend some time together."

"He doesn't know you yet. You both will get used to it. Give it time."

"I'll try."

"Speaking of '_giving it time_'. What's that on your neck?"

Martin smiled. "What does it look like?"

"So it really is. There are rumours spreading around like fire. Mostly they think that it's a really good joke that it looks like it, when it clearly can't be."

"Why can't it be?"

"They think they know you better."

"Fools, the whole lot of them."

"So I see you made full use of the weekend."

"It was quite eventful. Yes."

"I doubt that you need me for much longer."

"I…If I feel I need you…Can I still contact you?"

"You sure can, but I see that you have made quite good progress. How do you sleep now?"

"I've had the best sleep for quite some time the last couple of days."

"Very good. Is there anything else?"

"Just one thing – I want to thank you. I…I know I never would have been able to do it on my own. I know that I never would have had the nerve to ask for help. I'm so very grateful that you didn't look away, when you…"

"That's quite alright. It was very rewarding."

"Thank you and Good Night."

"Good night."

_To be continued…_


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

"Martin, how is your singing voice?" Louisa asked cheerfully, when she had picked Martin up and the two of them were driving towards Portwenn the next Friday.

"PARDON?"

"Your singing voice. I don't think I ever heard you sing."

"I bet you haven't. I don't sing."

"Not even in the shower?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Or when your favourite song is played on the radio?"

"I prefer instrumental pieces."

"But surely you have sung at some point. I bet you have a nice voice. It's so warm and it has such a lovely melody when you grow all soft." Martin grunted. "Come on! Give me a little sample."

"Why your sudden interest in my vocal capabilities?"

"I thought, you could take over Peter's bedtime routine tonight."

"You're not serious!"

"Sure I am. Peter loves it and it would be a good opportunity for you to grow closer."

"You can't possibly expect me…!"

"There's nothing to it, really. First you read a story to him."

"Good, I don't know any."

"Doesn't matter. I'll put one out, it's about a baby bear getting lost in the woods. I always thought you'd make a wonderful bear."

Martin looked towards her as if she had lost her mind.

"Well, you see, when I read the story, it's always a rather high pitched bear and you expect a bear to talk in a deeper tone."

"You don't expect bears to talk at all."

"In children's books you do."

"I disapprove very much of the humanisation of animals in children's books. They have to learn the difference. Imagine running Peter into a bear and he takes him for a cuddly toy or a talking 'papa bear'."

"The probability in running into a bear in Cornwall is as high as for bears speaking, I'd say."

"Louisa, you know perfectly well what I mean." Martin said in defence, a bit indignant that his argument had been so poor. In fact, he just wanted to escape something that could only end in disaster.

"Martin, even the ancient Greeks had fables where animals did talk, and since then every period has had a fair amount of these stories."

"And see where it had led us – idiocy is sprawling and blossoming everywhere."

"I hardly see a connection, but the point is that Peter simply loves the story. It might be a good start if he hears his favourite story from you."

Martin grunted. It dawned on him that there would be no escape.

"And after the story, Peter loves it when he is sung to."

"That leaves me out, then."

"Come on! Everyone can sing."

"Yeah, but the problem is listening to some of them. Honestly, Louisa, you can't expect me to sing?"

"Why not? Most parents do. The good ones at least."

Martin noticed too well the pressure she put onto him with the last remark. He hadn't sung since school times, when he had been forced to sing on special occasions. Of his own free will he had never sung, or hummed. But who was talking about free will?

"Louisa, I don't know any songs at all, least of all children songs."

"Can't you remember any?"

"I never _knew _any."

"No one ever sang any to you?"

"Can you imagine the wardens of the boarding school sitting in the sleeping room for several boys singing lullabies?"

"No. Suppose not."

"So how should I know, then?"

"Sorry, Martin. I keep forgetting, that your upbringing was so…" _loveless _came to Louisa's mind, but she didn't find it appropriate to say. "…so unconventional."

Louisa was silent for a while. It always hit her when he dropped hints of his childhood. She really had to dig deeper into it. Especially as a teacher she was always interested in upbringing and the effect it had. She strongly believed that encouraging children while at the same time giving them firm guidance would help them in developing into good adults. Seeing Martin and hearing about his early years seemed to support her view. She shuddered to think what a marvellous man Martin could have been if his parents hadn't been so selfish. It would be most enlightening to learn about all the mistakes you could make, but it wasn't the right topic to address while driving.

Martin could see that Louisa was thinking. He guessed correctly that she was thinking about a boy, but misinterpreted the identity of it. He would never have guessed that she was thinking about him as a child, but took it for granted that she was thinking about Peter and how to make things work between him and his father. Martin knew that he had disappointed her in refusing to do the bedtime routine in no uncertain terms, but he had no clue how he should do it. He had never experienced anything remotely like it and was sure he wouldn't be able to cope. He felt he had to make a peace offering.

"Louisa, look. Maybe I can watch you tonight doing the bedtime routine. Then we can talk again."

"Maybe you're right. I'm expecting too much of you."

"I…I'm sorry."

"No, it's not your fault. I simply have to get used to taking things slowly."

"Louisa, believe me. It's not that I don't want to. I simply…I don't think I can."

"I'm sure you do. Some day you will, I hope. But for tonight you can observe how I do it and we'll talk about it tomorrow. Maybe you'll remember how to sing then."

Martin was relieved. At least it had bought him some time.

By now they had almost reached Havenhurst Farm, where Aunty Joan had looked after Peter and where all four of them would have their tea. Louisa had made it abundantly clear to Joan that she wouldn't tolerate any criticism. Martin was back in their life because he had made this decision. Now he had to be supported. Accusations couldn't change the fact that he hadn't chosen to do so sooner.

When Joan heard the car stop, she took Peter and went outside. Peter made his way to his Mummy as fast as he could. When he was picked up by Louisa he looked anxiously towards this stranger that seemed to pop up regularly now. Peter hadn't got used to him and was a bit shy, but his Mummy had made it clear that she expected him to be on his best behaviour for him. So he didn't protest when he was handed over to this sour looking man.

Louisa made Martin to carry Peter inside. Again, both of them looked very uncomfortable, but Louisa had to stand this. When it should change at some point, they both had to get used to it.

They enjoyed a leisurely family meal, chatting about the events of the last week. The women were chatting anyway. After they had finished, and they were about to leave, Martin asked Louisa to go ahead to the car. So Louisa took Peter to secure him safely into the children's seat.

Martin wanted a word with Joan in private. As soon as Louisa had left the house, Martin turned to Aunty Joan, but for now he was awkwardly looking towards her.

"What is it, Marty? Come on, spill it!"

"Eeeh…About last weekend. I didn't yet; I mean I want to…"

"Want what?"

"Thank you. Thank you for getting Louisa down there, for looking after Peter. I couldn't have done it without your help."

"You know what you did, Marty?" There was a sharp edge in his Aunts voice that made Martin worry.

"Why? What have I done?"

Joan nodded towards the window, where Louisa could be seen fiddling around with the children seat.

"She really fell for you. All over again." Martin smiled. "Don't give me that smile, Marty! You looked equally happy after your engagement and what happened then? Don't you do that again, ever! I dare you. Don't hurt her again. She has enough trouble coping with your child on her own."

Martin felt guilty, but things were different now.

"If you really want to thank me, Marty, then make her happy. Try to be a father to your boy. She had to go through too much alone and you have missed far too many things with your son."

"Actually, as you were obviously very close all the time – why didn't you mention either of them in your letters once?"

"So you didn't have to take up your responsibilities? Don't you think that it was your bloody duty to find out about your child? I admit, I can't understand Louisa forgiving you so easily for letting her down, but anyway go ahead, your family is waiting." Joan smiled and ordered him towards the door. He bent down and hugged her stiffly.

_To be continued…_


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The three of them headed towards White Rose Cottage. The afternoon was fading away, and when they arrived at the cottage, it was almost time for Peter's bedtime routine. Louisa carried her son into the house, while Martin was pushing his trolley bag. When he entered, he looked around. This place bore so many memories and it had hardly changed, maybe except for being more untidy with all the toys and children's books lying around. Louisa saw Martin standing in the doorway indecisively.

"Why don't you bring your luggage upstairs? Then you can join us."

"Upstairs?"

"Yes, Martin." Louisa was a bit unnerved about this constant shyness of him sharing with her. She had hoped they had left that behind during the last weekend. "The bedroom?"

"Oh. I see."

"Glad you do." She muttered under her teeth.

Martin walked upstairs, bending his head not to hit the beams and carrying his luggage up the steep, narrow stairs. He paused before entering the bedroom. It felt odd going in without Louisa being there. It felt like intruding on her privacy. He took a breath and entered. He looked carefully for a place to put his trolley bag, without getting in the way with Louisa's things. He placed it into a corner and quickly left the room to join Louisa downstairs.

Louisa sat on the floor, playing with Peter. "Won't you join us? We are building some skyscrapers." Peter was clumsily piling some building blocks.

"No. Thanks." Martin sat down at the sofa, watching her trying to stabilise the fragile tower. After about half an hour, Louisa picked Peter up. "Time for bed now." She nodded towards Martin, ordering him with her eyes to follow them.

Upstairs, a small room had been turned into Peter's room. At his age, it should be OK, but Louisa didn't know what to do in a few years time. She had postponed this problem until it became urgent.

She went to the bathroom with Peter to prepare him for the night. Martin had firmly refused to join them there. The bathroom was the highest sanctuary and was not to be shared. His boyhood memories of the shower rooms at boarding school made him very particular about this point. Louisa had told him to organize a chair instead to put into Peter's room for him to sit quietly to observe the bedtime routine.

Louisa read an absolutely silly story – Martin thought – with the utmost seriousness, changing her voice according to the characters that were talking. Sometimes pausing to wait for Peter to join in answers that were obvious or he might be remembering from earlier readings. He did so with much joy. Martin had no idea how he would be able to make such a stupid, uneventful story sound interesting.

When the story had finished, Louisa cuddled Peter, put the blanket firmly over him, making sure that he was completely covered, and then kissed his forehead, whispering "Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." Peter smiled, and yawned almost simultaneously. Then Louisa sat down beside the bed and started to sing. Martin was in awe. She had the most beautiful voice. Clear as a bell. After a very short while, Louisa got up and nodded towards Martin. Martin got up and whispered to her, not to disturb Peter "Can't you sing one more to him?"

"Sorry, Martin, he is almost asleep now. It would only wake him up again." She could see the disappointment on his face. She practically pushed him outside and went downstairs. He followed. Standing in the lounge he felt uncertain what to do. Louisa was standing in front of the window, staring outside.

"Peter is a very lucky boy, having a mother like you. That was amazing." Martin said towards her back.

"Nothing special. Most parents do it."

"But I doubt many sing as beautifully as you do."

Louisa smiled. "Martin, I'm sorry that I couldn't fulfil your wish."

"Sorry?"

"About an encore."

"Oh. Not important really." He muttered bashfully. He didn't know what he had been thinking. Imagine him asking to listen to more children's songs? Really!

Louisa turned around and looked him directly into the eyes. "But maybe I can sing to you later."

"Don't be silly. I'm too old for children's songs." This time his pride was truly hurt.

"I wasn't thinking of children songs." There was a definite twinkle in her eye, which made Martin flush. Louisa opened the door to the patio and went outside, gesturing Martin to follow. She wondered if he would ever get the knack to do it on his own. They sat together, overlooking Portwenn harbour. It was strange for Martin to look across the harbour, seeing the surgery on the other side, and knowing that someone else was living there now. He felt so much at home right now, but for the first time he wasn't really at home in Portwenn. Just visiting.

Martin and Louisa spent the evening very much to Martin's taste. They spoke little, but cuddled close and occasionally kissed. Louisa wanted to see the sunset before going back in again. Martin had both arms firmly around her, to make sure she didn't get chilly. He felt rather hot himself.

When the sun had just set behind the horizon, Martin suddenly heard the bell like voice of Louisa starting lowly to sing. To sing to him. '_Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around._'

He listened attentively. Not only that her voice put him under a spell. The words hit him as he realised how careful Louisa had chosen the song for him. His eyes started to glisten a bit when she sang the lines '_Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays, / I'll send 'em howling, / I don't care, I got ways.'_

He tightened the grip on her. He could feel her breath reaching the end of the line to get air for the next wonderful lyrics. '_No one's gonna hurt you, / No one's gonna dare. / Others can desert you, Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there.'_ He could listen to her all night. Sadly, the song was over too soon. There was a silence afterwards. Martin had to compose himself, before he could speak. He knew the shaking voice would give him away. After a while he brought his mouth directly to Louisa's ear and whispered almost inaudible.

"Thank you. Was that especially for me?"

"The song is from the musical '_Sweeney Todd'_, but I thought it says how I'd like to assure you much better than I ever could."

By his breathing, which she felt against her neck, she could tell that Martin was trying to disguise his tears. She thought it was nice that she managed to touch him. That she obviously struck the right note. He didn't have to hide his emotions from her. She turned around. Martin, noticing that, looked away. He wasn't sure if the surrounding darkness was already strong enough to hide the tears he felt running down his cheeks. Louisa took his face into both her hands and gently forced him to look towards her. Then her thumbs brushed away the tears.

"It's alright, Martin. No need to be ashamed."

"It's so silly. It's just a song, after all."

"Music is such a powerful force, isn't it?"

"It never…had an effect like this."

"I'm glad. I hoped it would show you how I feel. I could always see, even rather shortly after we first met, that your expression changed when you were with me. As if some…as the song put it…_demon _that had hold over you was loosening its grip. You always softened up. I hoped I could make you feel more at ease. Bring some peace to you, but up to now, I've failed."

"No, Louisa. You can't fail. Never."

"Don't say that, Martin. No one's without fault. That pedestal you put me on is such a huge responsibility. Last weekend I realised that you trust my guidance completely, but I can be wrong. I _was_ wrong in judging you during the pregnancy. Please don't stand by any longer and let me go into a wrong direction. Let's find a way together."

"I don't know. I would have never left my well-known paths without you. I can't go new ways on my own."

"Do I ask too much of you?"

"No. That's fine. It's - you challenge me, but that's fine."

"I just think there is so much more to you than you allow others to see. So much good that you hide."

Martin just listened to her, but didn't respond. After a while Louisa continued. "And you don't have to hide your feelings from me, you know? Trying to hide your tears. There was no need to. You can trust me."

She could feel his head, which was touching hers, nod slightly.

_To be continued…_


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

"Louisa, you're such a wonderful woman. And so beautiful. I will never understand why no one had snatched you away long ago. The whole male population of Portwenn must be blind – or barking mad."

"Do you really think you're the first one to have this idea?"

"You mean there were others?"

"Others that were interested, yes. Even others that have proposed."

"And you…"

"I refused."

"But you were so eager to accept my proposal?"

"Not because I was desperate to get anyone at all. You didn't believe that, did you? Didn't it occur to you that I might have had that sweet little idea in my head for quite a long time?

"But you had just ended our relationships two days earlier."

"Only because I felt we were getting nowhere. That was such a lovely moment under the trees, don't you agree."

"Oh yes!"

"But what did you do when I kissed you? And yes – I kissed _you_. It never had been the other way around."

Martin didn't answer.

"I can tell you what you did. You spoiled just another romantic moment, in bubbling pseudo-scientific talk."

"But it's not my fault that the effect of perfume is based on pheromones which are…"

He was cut short by Louisa "_Thank you very much_. I don't need a reminder. You actually can't imagine that a woman feels offended when you tell her she smells – '_urine-like_'."

"That was not what I was saying. I merely pointed out…"

"But that's how it sounded to me. Why couldn't you just shut up, as I asked you to do, and enjoy the kiss?"

"These things always come so easily to you. I felt uncomfortable, and had to do something to regain control."

"Why not just lose control and enjoy it?"

"It sounds easy when you say it – and I envy you for being able to be so…intimate…without problems. I simply couldn't. I'm still struggling to go along with it. It takes all my will-power _not_ to stop you from initiating these moments."

"But you seem to be quite keen. Don't tell me you don't enjoy us being together."

He blushed, but thankfully there was no way that she could see it.

"No, it's not that. That's the problem. I just still feel it's not right to…."

"Have sex?"

"Louisa!"

"Maybe you should name it by its proper name. Maybe you'll get used to the thought more easily when you say it out loud. You're such a prude."

"You're so at ease with these things. How do you do that?"

"I'm with the man I long to be with. It's not that I'm sleeping around. I made the decision carefully. So I can't see anything wrong in it. I don't mind enjoying myself. It's not that we are doing anything shady. And I can't imagine you sleeping around."

"Of course not!"

"So how many women have you have before me?"

"I really think that is no subject to discuss."

"But I'm interested. Anyone but Edith?"

"No." Martin forced himself to whisper.

"And being a young student – were you more adventurous then?"

"She always told me when she expected of me and I did as I was told. Not very romantic, I'm afraid, but she never expected me to do anything else."

"So you were her toy boy?"

"Louisa!"

"Oh, come on. Face it. Real relationships don't work like that. If there's real love, then it's both-sided. Both can express their wishes, and both have the right to say no if they feel like it. When you make love, then it's because _both_ of you want to."

"But I don't want to force you. Statistics say that usually men…"

"There's nothing usual about you, Martin, and I don't want you to _force_ me. Seducing me from time to time would be nice. I would also be happy if you just didn't sabotage it or have to be dragged into action."

"I'm sorry, but that's the way I was brought up. It's not easy to overcome it if it's what you've been taught all of your life."

"Yes. Joan told me the reason why your father forbade you to visit her."

"Oh."

"You don't agree with your father in that point, do you?"

"If you mean my attitude to adultery, then I have to admit that I despise that."

"I know, and I love you for it. I know that I can trust you absolutely in that point. But your attitude towards adulterers – there is a difference, you know?"

"If you mean if I can forgive Aunty Joan for cheating on Uncle Phil – yes, I suppose I can forgive her. I can't understand her, and I was shocked to find out, but at the end of the day, she did so much for me that it outweighs her aberration."

"You did quite a lot for her too, as I understand."

"What do you mean? I can't do much for her. Especially as she insists on being fiercely independent. Just as you are."

"But saving her farm." Martin was alarmed. He just hoped Joan hadn't told her in detail. No one should know.

"What do you know about that?"

"Only that your father tried to throw her out of her farm, and you prevented that. Joan said, if I want any details, I should ask you."

"That was nothing, really. My father thought he had some sort of claim on the farm from the legacy that Joan got her farm from. I had ways of clearing up the misunderstanding that where were not available to Joan. So I simply sorted it out for her. Nothing much to it." It was clear that Martin didn't want to elaborate, and so Louisa left it for the moment. She decided to think about the information she had so far first, and maybe if she came to the right conclusion, she could confront Martin with the truth. If she could take him unaware, that was always the easiest way to get anything out of him.

"Why did your father do it in the first place? That's quite cruel. Joan was furious when she talked about it."

"Please let's not talk about my father. It'll just spoil the moment."

"But you're still deeply influenced by it, so I think I should know more about your parents. Maybe if I'd known before, I would have understood you better and treated you more appropriately."

Martin was fed up by now. It had been such a wonderful evening, and she had to spoil it in bringing up such unpleasant topics. Suddenly he felt tired. He realised that it was past his bedtime, and he felt the burden of the whole past week.

Louisa was sorry to feel his arms loosen their grip.

"I'm sorry. I'm truly tired. I'm off to bed."

"I'm coming, too. You're right, it's quite late." Martin looked at her quizzically.

"Don't worry, Martin. I won't delay your precious night sleep. I just want to sleep. Right?"

Martin realised that he had hurt Louisa, but he couldn't discuss his parents with her. He didn't want to.

Louisa, on the other hand, was more determined than ever to find out more. It wouldn't be long before Peter would realise that all the other boys had four grandparents. She could tell him about exactly _one_ grandfather, and that story wasn't a very nice one. From all three other grandparents of Peter she knew exactly nothing.

_To be continued…_


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

The next morning after breakfast, Peter was again concentrating on his building blocks. While Louisa was enjoying another cuppa, Martin looked down at his son happily playing in front of the French windows. The weather outside was marvellous – good old Cornish rain. It meant that they would probably spend the whole day indoors together. So Martin did not have to face any villagers, which suited him just fine. It was so peaceful. Such a simple happiness, just sitting at a kitchen table with the woman he adored and watching his son play.

Over the mug, Louisa suddenly asked "Would you like your parents to know about Peter?"

Martin couldn't believe what he had heard. He looked over in disbelief to Louisa. "WHO PUT THIS…THIS…STUPID! IDEA INTO YOUR HEAD!" He shouted rather excitedly.

Peter wasn't used to raised voices at home and looked anxiously over to this stranger who had shouted at his Mummy and started to cry. Louisa jumped up to run towards Peter to assure him that everything was fine. While she was doing so, she looked over at Martin. "Thank you _very much, _Martin. Well done, really. We are not used to shouting in this house."

"So it's my fault again? But who started it with this FOOLISH notion…that…of all people."

"Martin, could you please keep your voice down? You're scaring Peter."

"Oh, it's like that, is it? Maybe you would prefer if I go?" Martin got up and walked towards the door. It was when he heard the door slam behind him that he realised that he had done something really stupid.

To start with, he had to admit that Louisa was right about keeping the voice down for Peter. He was also standing in the pouring rain without a coat and nowhere to go. He had no place of his own anymore in Portwenn. He didn't have his car as he had been picked up by Louisa. He couldn't even call Aunty Joan as he had left his mobile inside. Not that she would have helped him anyhow under these circumstances. The longer he stood outside Louisa's cottage, the more likely it was that some nosy villager would spot him. He turned around, looking for help, knowing that he wouldn't find any. Finally he swallowed his pride and knocked on the door. After a few moments Louisa opened, carrying Peter, still trying to comfort him.

"Look at the unexpected visitor we have. We have to think _really_ hard if he is welcome." She said towards her son. Martin was dripping already, but didn't dare to enter due to her words.

"Don't be silly. Just get yourself dry again."

Guiltily he slipped inside and upstairs, to get some dry clothes.

Minutes later he reappeared, still rubbing his hair dry with a towel, but freshly dressed. By now, Peter's attention was again on his construction work.

"I'm sorry Louisa. That was childish."

"Yes, it was. Glad you see it."

"I shouldn't have shouted in the first place. And then running out, was – stupid."

"You have to learn to control yourself. I can't understand you. You have such an outstanding self-discipline in so many things, but then you loose your temper over nothing at the most inappropriate time."

"I…I'm working on it."

"How can we teach Peter to behave, when we can't behave ourselves? We must be a good example for him. I know that it isn't always easy, but as long as Peter is around, I really ask that you keep your voice down."

"I told you. I'll try."

"Don't you think you should apologize?"

"But I just did!"

"Not to me." She nodded towards Peter. "It was him you scared after all."

"Oh. I see. How should I do it?"

Louisa sighed. She really had to test her patience if this was going to last. She just hoped Martin would get used to Peter pretty soon. "Just as you did with me. He's just another human being. But please try to be at the same eye level, and don't just talk down to him."

So Martin walked over to where Peter was playing again. He crouched down to look Peter into the eye. "Peter, I'm very sorry. I didn't want to scare you." Peter was looking over, not sure what to make of this sudden gesture. As a peace offering, he firmly placed one of his building bricks into Martin's hand. Martin looked puzzled towards Louisa. "He wants you to help him, Martin."

"Help him? How?"

"Building a tower. As high as possible."

"You don't seriously expect me to sit on the floor piling bricks?" Louisa gave him a meaningful look as an answer. Martin realised that he had no chance to get away this time. It was perfectly clear that Louisa not only expected him to do it, but almost demanded it. So he sat down on the floor unwillingly and started to build a tower, together with his son. Peter was not unhappy about it, as the tower grew higher than it had ever done when his mummy was helping him, as Martin put the pieces on top of each other very carefully.

While Louisa sat down to do some marking, she could hear the front door open. As Joan was helping regularly, Louisa had given her a key. Joan was obviously carrying some boxes, as she often brought some vegetables and eggs for their supply, so Louisa got up to help her. When Joan entered, she shot a look in direction of her nephew, and then said in low voice to Louisa: "I guess I have to have my eyesight tested."

"You're having problems lately?" Louisa was concerned.

"I really thought I saw Marty sitting on the floor piling building blocks." She nodded towards father and son. Louisa immediately warned Joan not to say anything about that to Martin. It had been tough enough to make him do it.

"So how's the family thing going?"

"I just hope Martin gets used to it quickly. He is so hopelessly clueless."

"I thought we established that already."

"Yes, but I had hoped he would show some natural instincts."

Joan looked doubtfully towards Louisa. Could she really be so naïve?

"So how did you make him play with Peter? Physical violence? Or did you tie him down?"

"Well, he was a bit loud earlier on." Joan looked as if she had expected something like that. "It wasn't entirely his fault, I have to admit. I...I wanted to make him talk about his parents and so I provoked him a bit."

"Great idea. Of course he started to rant."

"At least he raised his voice and scared Peter. So I made it clear that he owed Peter to play with him as a peace offering."

"And he went for it?"

"Reluctantly. I think he is still afraid I might leave him again. So he's very eager to please me."

"Make the most of it, as long as it lasts."

"I had the same idea. But wouldn't I exploit his love? Misuse my power over him? I think it's not fair. On the other hand, he has to stretch his limits considerably to fit into this family. If he doesn't get used to it now, I doubt he ever will."

"Louisa, take some advice from me. Push him now. Then he knows what he has got himself into. You have to think of Peter first. If it's not going to work between the three of you, better you find out soon. If it does work, then Marty has a short stressful time when he has to adjust himself. His whole life is upside down anyway at the moment. But then he will have his routine pretty soon and will have no problems. Now is the time."

"It's really ironic, isn't it? I always told myself that I shouldn't try to change him. That love is not about moulding the partner according to your wishes. And then look what I've done to him?"

"But do you truly believe he was happy before he met you?"

"Probably not."

"So what's wrong in getting him out of his misery? Do you really think he would have done it if he hadn't thought it might improve his own life? You didn't make him do it."

"No. I would have never suggested anything remotely like it. And maybe that's why I didn't want him to be involved in the pregnancy. I didn't want to force him to be a father. That hurt him terribly."

"See. You owe it to him to change him so that he learns what happiness is. He never had anything like it before. Just look at the two of them – it even looks as if it's working."

"I'm surprised, too. It's the first time that I've left the two of them alone without one or both of them shouting for help after a few minutes."

Louisa had hardly finished the sentence, when Peter could be heard crying. "What did I say?" Louisa muttered desperately. With a sigh she approached the scene of drama. Martin had jumped to his feet, looking wildly around – to Peter crying at his feet, over to Louisa, out of the window and back again. He quite visibly couldn't cope. Seeing Louisa coming towards them, he assured her with a cracked voice: "I didn't do anything. Honestly I didn't."

"So what's the problem?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. Please believe me."

She crouched down next to Peter and could see immediately what the problem was. The wonderfully tall tower had collapsed and was shattered all over the floor. One of the little childhood dramas. She stroked Peter's head, comforting him, assuring him that the next tower would be even better, taller. Pretty soon Peter had composed himself, and noticed that his Aunty Joan had arrived and trotted towards her to 'help' her with the deliveries.

Martin was not at ease. "Louisa, what did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, everything's alright. It wasn't your fault."

"But why did he cry? I must have done something."

"It was just because the tower collapsed. It usually ends that way."

Martin stared in disbelief.

"Martin, at that age children are often somewhere between crying and laughing. Moods can change quite quickly, and sometimes with little reason. As long as the cause of unhappiness is so trivial, he will compose himself quickly. Look at how happy he is now as he helps Joan to unpack the vegetables. The tower is already forgotten. As soon as he's finished with Joan, we just have to make sure that he packs the building blocks back into the box."

"So you're not angry with me?"

"Why should I be? You were right. You didn't do anything."

A sigh of relief. Then Martin stiffly walked towards Joan to greet her. She hugged him and just told him that she was glad to see him. Louisa had had a talk with her during the week explaining that punishing Martin for being away for so long wasn't helping, and that they should rather reward him for being back. So Joan tried to be as positive as possible towards him. Besides, she could see that he was on guard, fearing the worst to happen. If she could just get hold of her lovely brother! She would teach him a lesson! But for Marty, she really couldn't blame him for not trying.

While they were still gathered around the deliveries, Peter got impatient again, this time he wanted to play with Aunty Joan. When Joan came around, she often played Memory with her grand-nephew. Louisa jumped at the opportunity.

"That's a great idea, Peter. Why don't we all play? I bet your Daddy will be very good at it." Martin looked alarmed. He thought he'd had his share of playing for one weekend.

"No, Louisa, I don't think so. I'd rather store away Joan's deliveries."

"We can leave that for later. Come on." And she dragged him to the table in the little living area, while Peter fetched the game with the help of Joan, sceptically sizing up this _daddy_ that seemed to be everywhere lately.

When they were all gathered around the table, Peter shuffled the cards, and Joan placed them upside down on the table. The game started off being quite easy going, but then Peter chose the wrong card the third time in a row even though it had been turned around just before. Martin grew impatient. He couldn't believe that a son of his could be so stupid. He heard himself utter: "For goodness sake! It's just where it was a minute ago!"

Peter looked timidly towards Martin, Martin just cried out, as Louisa had given him a solid kick against his shinbone, and Joan observed everything with a knowing smile. Martin was just about to defend himself, when Louisa stopped him: "I think you were right. You'd better pay your attention to the veggies."

Abruptly Martin got up and started to store away the veggies and eggs. He felt more comfortable doing this anyhow. But why had it been wrong what he had said before? He looked over to the two women playing happily with Peter. He still hadn't found that bloody card that he had turned over twice before. It was beyond Martin how it was possible _not_ to remember. He would wait until he could ask Louisa.

He tried to look busy as long as he could, so as not to be dragged back to the game table. When the first round of Memory was completed, Louisa left Joan and Peter to play the second game together. She went over to Martin to check what was taking so long.

"Martin, what are you doing?"

"As you said. Store away the supplies."

"Must have been a lorry load, as long as it has taken you. You're not by any chance looking for an excuse not to play another round?" Martin looked guilty. "Don't worry, I realised that this was a stupid idea. You were better with the bricks."

"But what the heck was wrong with what I said?"

"You really don't know?" The questioning look told her clearly that he didn't.

"Martin, he's not even two years old. We're just starting on this kind of game. We have to encourage him when he is right. Not take the success for granted and get impatient when he doesn't find the right card at once."

"What do you mean '_at once'_, he was staring at it twice before. Is he blind or simply stupid?"

"Is that what your parents used to think? That everything that goes right isn't worth mentioning and every mistake has to be punished?"

"I don't know what my parents have got to do with this!"

"But did they?"

"Actually….yes. But…"

"Please, Martin. Forget _everything_ your parents ever did or told you. I haven't met them, but from what I gathered their parenting skills were crap."

"At least they weren't delinquents!"

_To be continued…_


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

"_Thank you very much_. You're charm itself today, aren't you, Martin? So last week was just an exception and we're back to normal?"

Martin took in a sharp breath. Eyes opened wide he looked around. Joan could see that something was the matter. She knew with Peter around, they would never get to the bottom of this whole affair. So she suddenly said aloud "Now I forgot my tablets against my back pain. I'll just go and check if Mrs. Tishell is still at the pharmacy so I can get some. I'll take Peter along. It's clearing up and a short stroll will do him good."

She got Peter into his raincoat, and they went off. In the doorway she threw a knowing look towards the couple. Joan sighed. This wouldn't be easy. Better to discuss things immediately.

As soon as Peter was out of the way, Louisa exploded. "I know you despise my father, but at least he loved me. Something you'll never understand!"

"Yeah. He loved you _so_ much that he cheated on you, lied to you, put you into an impossible position in the village, gambled all the money away, and…how can I forget…stood by when you were abducted."

"Don't be so smug! Yes, he did all that. He is weak and he certainly isn't a shining example of mankind. But he _is_ my father. He lied to me to protect me, because he loved me. And he certainly always made us children happy in his company. You try to achieve that!"

"Oh! He's the glorious example that I have to live up to? Where shall I start – stealing or gambling?"

"You're horrid, Martin."

"What did you expect me to…"

"I don't know what I expected. After last weekend – I don't know. I just fooled myself that you might have actually changed. That you were serious about being a father."

Martin fell silent. The mentioning of the last weekend made him think. There was something about the familiar atmosphere that made him relapse into his old behaviour. He was again defending himself against Louisa. He realised what the problem was. _She_ was at home here, _he_ was merely a guest. _She _could be a parent, _he _was at a loss. He felt inferior because of that. Without noticing, he had grown tired of living up to Louisa's expectations.

On the other hand, he didn't want to be alone again. The dreadful memory of his useless life in London without hope hit him. Never again did he want to feel so low.

"Louisa, look – I'm sorry for my remarks about your father."

"Great! You're sorry, so everything's forgiven and forgotten. Until you do it again."

"Let me finish, please." Martin had to compose himself with all his willpower. He knew he was on the verge of losing his temper again. He would not allow this to happen. "You are angry because I criticised your father. I can't understand that, but I do respect it. However, you mentioned my parents twice today, although yesterday I asked you not to talk about them. You are curious, so you keep bringing this subject up. You never even met my parents, but it was OK for you to say that their parenting skills are crap. So where's the difference?"

Louisa just had held back her anger while Martin spoke to explode as soon as he stopped. Now, it was her turn to fall silent. She stared at Martin, confused. He had made her think. Both occasions when he had hit the roof today were because she tried to make him talk about his parents. He was right. She was dying to know more about them, but her curiosity didn't justify that she kept talking badly about them, just to make him talk.

"I see. You just wanted to get even with me? Great!"

"No, Louisa, and you know that darn well!" He noticed with shock that he had raised his voice again. He had to control himself better. But why didn't she help him? Martin remembered her suggestion to avoid each other when things got out of hand. Maybe now was the right time to do so.

"Louisa, I see that you are desperate to discuss my parents. I really don't see any sense in it. Honestly, I rather wouldn't. Maybe we should think about both aspects alone, as you have suggested last week. I'll go for a walk, to give you space. Later we'll talk about it. Right?"

"Maybe you're right, Martin. Our feelings are running high. Let's postpone the talk. If you want to, you can stay. The weather is not very promising."

"No. You said last week we should separate to think about it. I'll be back later."

He walked out. Louisa just stared at the closed door for a moment. Life surely had been easier while he hadn't been around. But did she want to be alone again? There were moments when he was so sweet, and they were more frequent now than they had been before they parted. Those outbursts, however, ruined it all. She thought about what she had promised him last week, what she had tried to assure him with the song last night, but all of a sudden, she didn't feel up to it.

To match her gloomy thoughts, she could see dark clouds drawing close again. She got her mobile out and sent an SMS to Joan to come back.

While waiting for Joan and Peter to return, she sat down in her little living area watching the thunder storm gathering. She thought about the conversation. The things Martin had said had been horrible. Remembering them, she was infuriated all over again. He wasn't such a great father himself, couldn't care less for almost two years – so who was he to look down at Louisa's father! She realised that this was not the reason for getting out of each other's way. It could only work if she tried to see his point. He had been right. It had started with her advising him to forget everything his parents told or showed him about upbringing. Could she blame him for defending them? She surely hadn't expected him to do so. She realised that he didn't like any of them very much, but having someone else point this out _was_ something different.

She also knew that she wanted to know more about them, and he had to face it. However, obviously it didn't help trying to provoke him. Better be honest about it. He might have fled the evening before, but he couldn't always use the excuse of being tired.

Maybe she was too eager to get him involved with Peter too quickly. It might help when he _saw_ first how she connected with her son. Then he might be able to adapt to it. She had been misled, as the first try with the building blocks had worked surprisingly well. Martin was probably better with practical things. Intellectually he expected too much. He expected too much from adults, so why should he be more understanding with children? Especially as he had no experience whatsoever. They had wasted enough time already. He had spoiled his chance in getting used to the child by abandoning them during the first most important months. Louisa sighed. She had certainly got herself into something, but she had promised that she would try.

Fortunately, she was stopped in her thoughts by the return of Joan and Peter.

"Everything's sorted out between you two? Where's Marty?"

Peter was grumpy because he had been dragged out in that awful weather. Louisa came towards him to humour him a bit. The day hadn't been easy for Peter either. She could see that he had problems getting used to Martin, too. "Martin went for a walk."

"Oh, he's fed up, is he?"

"No, Joan. It's not that. Our discussion was a bit…animated. We both had to calm down."

"I see."

"It's not just his fault. I suppose we just have to get used to being together for long periods of time. We never spent more than a few hours together before."

"He's getting on your nerves?"

Louisa sighed. "But I promised him I'd try."

"Yes, and you owe him that." Louisa, still crouching in front of Peter looked up to Joan, alarmed by her serious tone. Louisa straightened up, still puzzled as she was not used to being scolded by Joan.

"What was that?"

"You heard me darn well, you _owe_ it to him. I know I have been harsh on him, too. Last week I couldn't even understand that you had forgiven him so quickly. During last week, I did a lot of thinking, especially after our talk. He came a hell of a way towards you, you know that?"

"Sure, that's pretty obvious. I would never have thought it possible, least of all expected it."

"Especially for him. You always knew he wasn't the easiest person to get along with, and if I remember correctly, it was _you_ who encouraged him in the first place. Poor Marty would never have had the guts to approach you without a written invitation."

"I also know that. So what's your point?"

"My point is that I think he has come as far as he can on his own. It's your turn now to pick him up and lead him further. He desperately needs you. You're his last lifeline, I'm afraid."

"Don't put the pressure on me. I didn't choose to be his last chance!"

"Oh yes, Louisa, you did. When you seduced him last weekend, you made your choice. There is _no way_ I'll stand by watching him getting hurt as long as he is trying so hard."

"I have cursed him hundreds of times during the last few years. For the first time ever, I'm thoroughly proud of him." Louisa stared at Joan. She had always had been on her side, strange as it always seemed to her, as Martin was Joan's family, she was not. Joan's change of heart meant that she was obviously going in the wrong direction. She had come to trust Joan's opinion, as she had a down-to-earth, no-nonsense view of the world.

"So what shall I do, in your opinion? I have to consider Peter's needs, and mind me saying it, my own needs, too."

"That's the definition of family for you."

"But what kind of family shall that be, when Martin doesn't trust me?"

"He trusts you alright. Just because he doesn't want to talk to you about everything you're curious about? Do you tell him about your hard times?"

This remark hit Louisa right between the eyes. Joan could hit a target without even trying. Louisa never talked about her own past with Martin. It was, well, _past_ and didn't count anymore. Besides, she didn't want him to find out about the scars it had left. Then he would know how to hurt her. Not that she expected him to do so, not in the least. However, it was always safer when no one knew. Speaking of trust.

Joan had kept silent as she could see Louisa thinking about her words. Peter was already concentrating on his next big construction work. Everything seemed so peaceful. Finally Joan continued.

"Do you really have to know about his parents?"

"Yes, Joan. I'm sorry, but I have to insist on that. Peter has a right to know about his grandparents, when he asks some day, I have to be able to answer. I can't tell him about my mother, as I can remember very little and have never heard from her again. I will tell him about Dad though, warts and all. The only thing I could say about Peter's other two grandparents is that they, well, maybe are selfish arseholes?" Joan chuckled.

"You can say that out loud! Would it help if I tell you?"

"No, Joan. I need to know his point of view. However, I promise that I won't rush him and provoke him like I just did. It is not that important, really."

"Glad you're coming to your senses."

"I still can't see why he can't just tell me. Share it with me."

"Oh, Louisa. Do you know the man you claim to love?"

"Joan, please!"

"He's a very proud and independent man. He always had to manage on is own. He always had to do it the hard way. He always had only himself. And he wants to impress you, be there for you. You were so astonished last week that he allowed himself to be weak. Maybe he'd rather be strong for you? Maybe he doesn't want you to pity him? And I guarantee, if he honestly tells you about his life, you _will_ pity him. I myself have just had some glimpses here and there. That was really enough for me. He doesn't confide in me either. Just when he can't help it, he comes to me, as he really has no one else. I hope that will change from now on…" Joan looked towards Louisa.

"Alright, I get the point. I have to make it work because he tries so hard and had a rotten life."

"No, Louisa. It's your moral duty because _you_ made him believe that his attempts were appreciated. You were free to leave the cottage on that first Friday night. Honestly, it impressed me how Martin considered this possibility and provided an easy way out for you. It was very brave and only few men would have the consideration and the strength to do so. You were even free to leave when he confessed to you on the beach. You tied yourself to him afterwards, and since then you are responsible for him. Just like you are responsible for Peter. Just as he is responsible for you."

Louisa went quiet for some time, then walked over to Peter and silently started to play with him. The first tower had already collapsed when Louisa, still sitting on the floor, turned to Joan, who was sitting in the entrance area reading the papers. "Joan?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

_To be continued…_


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Peter had been put down for his afternoon nap and Joan had left. Louisa came downstairs, where Martin was solemnly staring into thin air. Louisa looked through the French windows. Without trying to make eye contact, Martin quietly asked. "Can we talk now?"

Louisa sighed. She had dreaded this moment the whole day long. It could only end in disaster, but couldn't be avoided either. Neither of them tried to face the other, each one staring into their own direction. "I think I was pretty rubbish today, don't you think, Louisa?"

Louisa was surprised. Martin admitting that he had caused the confusion was not like him. He never would have done that without good reason and so free-willingly before he had left to London. "Do you still think it's a good idea that you let me back into your life?"

Louisa didn't answer for quite a while. Martin just waited, didn't push, but he grew more and more nervous the longer the silence endured. Louisa had actually thought about it during the afternoon, and hadn't quite come up with an answer yet.

"I think we just have to try for a bit longer to make things work, don't you?" She finally answered.

"That's quite elusive. I want an honest answer. I promise not to be offended."

"Actually, I had my doubts today, but I promised to try. I won't give up just yet."

"But is it fair to Peter? I feel so guilty because I can see how happy he is when he's with you or Joan. Then you insist on us being together, and he's all timid and shy. I don't blame him, don't get me wrong, but I feel sorry for him."

"Don't take it personally. He's a very shy boy generally. He doesn't know you well enough to trust you yet."

"Don't try to play it down. I did everything today to scare him away. It's just – "

"Just what?"

"I have no clue why he acts the way he does. I don't understand him at all. I see that the life of the three of you is perfectly organised and I doubt there's a place for me."

"We have to find one and that takes time." Finally Martin stood up, awkwardly stalking through the room, finally approaching Louisa.

"It's just - it seems to fulfil my worst fears – that Peter could have a good life, as long as I don't get involved. That I will make life miserable for him." Now Louisa turned around, facing Martin.

"Don't say that. It's just difficult to start with. The relationship between Peter and me is just two years ahead of yours. There are moments when I actually had hopes it could work."

"Just name one."

"Last week the picnic went down pretty well. And building the tower together, that wasn't too bad either, was it?"

"And it ended in tears. And I felt – silly."

"Did you enjoy any time with your son at all?"

"I…don't know." Martin thought about the few encounters with his son. "Actually, when he came eagerly towards you at the picnic – he looked so happy. I hoped he could have a good life. And watching him play while we were still at the breakfast table. I liked that."

"But not doing anything with him? You didn't like that at all?" Martin was quiet. It was after quite a while when he finally answered.

"Somehow it didn't feel right. He didn't want me to. I was doing things I know I'm not good at. I couldn't help thinking that he would be more happy being with you."

"So what are you saying ? That you don't want to come anymore?"

"No! It's not that. I just don't want to make life miserable for Peter. So when _you_ think it would be best I stay away from him, I will."

"What would you prefer?"

"I admit that I wasn't always quite happy today, I felt like a fish out of water, but it wasn't half as bad as I felt in London on my own. I would like to find out how it is to have a family. I just realise that I haven't the slightest clue how."

"So you're prepared to try?"

"I sure am, but not at Peter's sake."

"One more thing – why did you come back? Just because of me or both of us?"

"I love you and I need you. I told you that."

"So it was just for me then, and you're putting up with Peter as part of the bargain?"

"I hadn't finished. That was not all. I had this recurring dream, about our child, and it was only a ghostly figure. I had to find out more to be able to sleep again."

Louisa looked at Martin in disbelief. She realised that she had just got an idea of how desperate he had been.

"So you _do _care?"

"Of course I do. I just don't know how. It's far more difficult than I had imagined."

"Oh, Martin! Can't you just enjoy Peter's company without wanting to prove anything?"

A quizzical look from Martin made it quite clear that he didn't understand what she meant.

"You can't enjoy yourself at all, can you?"

"I relish every moment that we are together – when we're not quarrelling, that is."

"Yes, but just doing something for you? Treat yourself to something you enjoy?"

"Like what?" Louisa sighed again.

"That's really sad, you know. You're just centred on duty, aren't you? There's nothing else for you, is there?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. A passion, some fun, something you enjoy for yourself. Something you do to relax. Something like that."

"Eeeeh…no. But what has that to do with Peter?"

"You're playing with him out of duty, to please me – but not to spend time with him. Maybe I'm rushing you and you can't find your way. What would you like to do with Peter?"

A long silence. Martin tried to think of _anything_ that you can do with a child that age, but could think of nothing.

"You have no idea, have you?"

"I'm sorry. I really am."

"I think your problem is that you never have been a proper child. You might have been two years old – in fact must have been, even though it's hard to imagine – but you never acted like a child."

"I…don't know. I tried to do what was expected of me." Louisa rolled her eyes.

"And now you expect Peter to act like you want him to?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I see how happy he is being with you. I want him to be happy."

"That's a good start, Martin. Not bad at all. I'm sure time will show what activities will suit you, and which won't."

"So you wouldn't mind if I come down here again next weekend?"

"I suppose if it will ever work, then it would be essential for you to turn up regularly."

"Promise me that you will never allow me to harm Peter."

"Of course. Nothing really bad happened today. Just try not to lose your temper when he's around and keep your voice down. And don't expect too much. He's not even two, yet. His brain is just developing, as you well know. As we are talking about it – how about his bedtime routine tonight?"

"I will _not_ sing. Sorry, but no way."

"And reading the story?"

"Only if you give it to me beforehand. I will not read a text aloud which I don't know."

"That can be easily arranged. So you'll do it?"

"I'll try, but I'm afraid Peter won't like it. I don't know how to make stories interesting."

Louisa thought about it. She really wanted Martin to do it, but he had a point. If he stiffly read the story to Peter, it might end up being unpleasant again.

"Know what, Martin? Why don't we share the read? You read the narrator and Papa Bear, I read the rest." Papa Bear was rather a stern figure anyhow. That should come quite naturally. The rather excited Baby Bear and some other animals he encountered in the woods were by far livelier, but her higher voice wouldn't be in the way there.

"You think that'll work? I'd rather have you around, to be honest."

"That'll work just fine. I'll just scan the text for you and mark the lines you have to read. Peter will be delighted. He'll almost have an audio play that way." Louisa's mood was also lightened, and she rushed upstairs to get the book. After Martin's copies were marked, he eagerly took the sheets to look what he was supposed to do. He still thought this kind of story was utmost silly, but if that was all he had to do to make peace, he would comply.

While he was still studying his text, Peter grew active upstairs. He was fit for new adventures now. Louisa heard her little son getting restless and asked Martin: "Do you want to get him downstairs, please?"

Martin was shocked. He dreaded what she still might have in store for him. As he didn't want to cause more trouble, he went upstairs. Peter looked thoroughly disappointed, but soon decided that it was better if this _Daddy_ carried him downstairs, than to have to spend more time in bed. So Martin got his little son carefully up. He still was not confident about it and feared he might do something wrong. Finally he made his way downstairs, trying not to tumble, hit his head or let Peter fall. When he was downstairs he let his son down and Peter headed again straight towards Louisa. Martin quickly turned towards the bedtime story, to look busy and not being dragged into action again.

Louisa realised that and sat down with Peter to play happily along with him. The afternoon went by pleasantly, and Martin had secretly replaced his reading with some fascinating article.

Finally it was time to prepare tea and Martin was only too glad to offer to do the cooking. He felt safe as he was far too busy to play with Peter. Martin didn't know that Louisa had already decided that Martin as well as Peter had gone through enough for one day and just needed a little rest.

What suited Martin most about having Peter around was that the family meals couldn't be eaten too late. So well before Martin's carbohydrate curfew, the little family gathered around the kitchen table. Louisa and Peter were chatting happily. Martin enjoyed their presence silently. Louisa enjoyed that some of the everyday tasks were very happily taken over by Martin.

After the meal they spent some time together before it was time for Peter's bedtime routine.

Louisa let Martin carry Peter upstairs. Peter was not the lightest of children and if someone stronger than herself could carry him, she wasn't going to object. While Louisa disappeared into the bathroom with Peter, Martin got a second chair and placed it next to Louisa's. He had a glance at the text again.

Peter was finally ready. Louisa placed him in his little bed. Then she sat beside the bed and gestured Martin to sit next to her.

"Well, Peter, today I have a little help from your Daddy to read your bedtime story." Then she nodded towards Martin to begin. As some director once said, the main achievement in directing is the casting. The passages Martin had to read were perfectly suited to him, so the whole story was very enjoyable to Peter. Martin looked over to Louisa for approval from time to time, and when she noticed it, she smiled towards him. When the story was finished, Louisa bent over Peter, placed the blanket carefully over him, kissed his forehead and said: "Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite."

Suddenly Martin got up, too. "Louisa, do you think I should…could…"

Louisa smiled at Martin. "Just ask Peter."

"Eeehm…Peter, would you mind if I…uuummm…a goodnight kiss…too?"

Peter looked shyly towards his mother, but then nodded.

Martin bent down, stroked Peter's hair and placed a shy and gentle kiss onto his forehead. "Sleep well." Louisa could see that Martin was swallowing hard.

Then they sat down again for Louisa to sing the good-night song. She reached over to take Martin's hand into hers. When she had finished, both got up and left the room quietly, Louisa still holding Martin's hand. When the door was closed, Louisa turned around to face Martin.

"Is it really so difficult to be a father?"

"Something to get used to, I suppose."

"You did that quite well."

"Thanks very much, but I'm perfectly capable of reading. Since primary school, actually."

"Peter liked that he got a goodnight kiss from both of us. Thanks for that."

"You really think he didn't mind it too much? I don't know what came over me, but I suddenly felt the urge to…"

"Oh, Martin." She ran her fingers through his hair. "Of course he didn't mind. I also know what came over you – you started to feel like a father."

"Strange really, it's just the third day that I've seen him."

"Yes, but he _is_ your son! Good for you that it makes a difference."

"Maybe it's also because he looks so much like me. Looking into his eyes is so very strange."

"I told you, you didn't give me a chance to forget you. You'll make a wonderful father."

"You're kidding."

"Even now you are far better than any father we ever had."

"Thanks very much, but that is not really a comparison, is it?"

"You will turn out fine."

"We'll see. I'll work on it"

_To be continued…_


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Louisa and Martin went downstairs. Louisa had poured herself a glass of wine and placed herself onto the couch. Martin had settled himself at the small table, still uncomfortable about the way the day had gone. He didn't dare to make eye contact. He felt ashamed that he had turned out to be as bad a father as he feared he would be. At least he thought so.

Louisa let a few minutes pass. Finally, she addressed what had been lurking under the surface the whole day.

"You know, Martin, when my mother left us, I really felt very bad. I felt guilty and rejected. Somehow I thought she left because I was too much trouble. That father was deserted because of me."

"But that's rubbish!"

"No Martin. Let me tell you about it." He leaned forwards and listened quietly. "I felt I had to make it up to him for making mum leave. There was no chance to discuss anything with anybody. No one ever told me why she had really left us. Everyone plastered on a smile and kept going on as normally as possible. Dad showed me all the affection and comforted me. I really grew close to him over this loss. We were all we had." Martin grunted his disapproval, but Louisa decided to ignore it. "The village was supporting me with all its love and help, but I noticed it was far less supportive to my father. I didn't know why then." Martin mumbled "I wonder why." But again, Louisa ignored him.

"Dad was never good at practical things, so the house became rather shabby and untidy quickly." Martin distorted his face in disgust. "Therefore I started to take things in hand. Tried to sort out regular meals, keep the place tidy. That sort of thing. Father always lauded me, what a good girl I was and how beautiful, always telling me what he _almost_ bought me. Always inventing some stupid excuse why he finally hadn't. But he made me feel special. He relied upon me, and I felt so grown up, because I had someone who needed me. Whom I had to care for. I learned pretty quickly to be independent, to be strong, but I didn't mind. Really I didn't. I liked to be in control. And dad always appreciated what I did."

"The whole village made it easy for me, knowing what I'd been through. I always had their full support. Looking back, it was quite a good time. I missed my mother, of course, but I did feel special. And I felt loved. There was never a steady income, though. Sometimes dad hit it big, came home with loads of presents and lots of unnecessary crap. He never had a sense for what's important. Then we would have a field day and he would be spoiling me. Then long periods of droughts. All the promises about a proper job, but not just any job, but _the_ job, a big one. Of course. And of course it never came. We struggled to keep the boat afloat. And somehow we always did. On the way we had lots of laughs. Dad was always good at making me laugh.

Then one day those rumours in the village. Everyone looking at us suspiciously, even with hostility. It wasn't so bad for me. Just whispers behind the back. Some faked sympathy, but for my dad it became intolerable. Everyone isolated him. I tried to make life bearable for him. I failed. He left the village. I was completely deserted and had to cope on my own. Dad didn't want me to come with him. He wanted to make a name for himself. Build a home for us before he let me come. Of course he never did."

"But I don't regret much. The only thing I really cursed myself for is always believing his damned lies. I really did."

"Joan said that loyalty in families is often close to delusion."

"Maybe she's right. I believe now. She has a very down to earth approach to life. Lots of common sense."

"I wouldn't know what I'd have done without Aunty Joan."

"You really do care for her, don't you?"

"The only family I ever had."

"She was like a mother to you, wasn't she?"

"Yes. Holidays at her farm were the only good time I ever had."

"You must have been devastated when you weren't allowed to visit any more."

"Worst thing was that no one explained to me why I wasn't allowed to visit. I thought Joan didn't want me too. I thought I did something to annoy her, too. It was just when I returned as GP here that she told me that I had always been welcome."

"But your parents must have said something?"

"Just that I was never to spend my holidays in Cornwall again. They never explained anything."

"But you must have noticed that you were welcome?"

"I never notice anything."

"So what did you do during your holidays afterwards?"

"I had to spend them with my parents. Dad wanted to brush up my manners." Martin spat the last words in disgust.

"I can't imagine you being a rascal and Joan said you were always a quite sensitive, shy and quiet little boy."

Martin looked up. "You talked with her about me?"

"Sorry, Martin I realised that I needed to try to understand you. You were quite right when you told me that '_love'_ is quite a big word when I hardly knew you. I was attracted, but love should be more. And for that I have to know more. I want to understand what made you the person you're now."

Martin looked up towards her. He felt she had trapped him into starting the conversation he was hoping to avoid. However, this time the atmosphere was a bit different. She had been quieter. But why brush up those old stories?

"Look, Louisa, do you _really_ think it's necessary to talk about this? It's ghastly for me."

"Peter has a right to know about his grandparents. I bet it won't be long before he asks questions about them."

"Just tell him we have nothing to do with them."

Louisa sighed. "I told you my story, and it's not a very nice one either. Why don't you repay the trust?"

Martin sighed and got up. He went over to the window. He had found out in the sessions with Whitby that it was easier to talk when you didn't face the person you were talking to. Now he looked out to the harbour, one hand behind his back.

"Did you ever meet my parents?"

"Unfortunately not."

"You're lucky, really."

"Never heard anyone mention your mother, but Mark and Pauline were quite impressed with your father."

Martin grunted.

"What, Martin?"

"It was so embarrassing. Being in that damned pub just because Dad insisted on socialising with the village folk. And of course we had to run into love struck Mark Mylow and this horrid woman. Dad was gawping at her. It was disgusting! All that stupid sweet talk with Mark about his '_big step'_. Gawd! Then the sneering about Mark when we went back to the surgery. I can tell you that the big impression wasn't mutual."

"What did he say?"

"Something about Mark having to use his job not to lose her – he had to lock her up to keep her."

Louisa was shocked. Martin paused. He didn't know if he should tell the whole thing, but now that he started to talk it didn't matter. So he continued. "Dad said Mark and I were two peas in a pod – I'd had to drug them to keep them." Louisa didn't know what hurt her most. What his father had said or the calm way Martin talked about it. He was talking about it matter-of-factly.

"He never thought much about me. He belittled me for all of my life. I was too weak for his taste – he would have liked to have a real man. Not such a whimp. He would have loved it if I would have been the one bullying the others, not the one being bullied. I'm quite a coward, really. I hate physical violence. I always tried to hide away. Much to the disgust of my father."

"I also disappointed him in not being interested in money. I don't have many wishes. I've got everything I need. I was never into status symbols. Dad liked to show off. Could never understand why it didn't mean anything to me. We always had enough money. I never had to worry about monetary things. And I never did. I simply didn't care."

"We had our biggest falling out when I refused to follow him into the Navy. Can you imagine – me in the services? I know. It's ridiculous. But he couldn't see it. He insisted. I had finished my studies, was in my late twenties. He had no power over me, legally. But he insisted. I always tried to please him, do him proud. Don't ask me why. I wanted to be a good son. I had disappointed him so much, didn't want to disappoint him again. But I couldn't do that. We didn't speak for years."

"When he wrote to say they were coming to visit me in Cornwall we hadn't spoken a word for seven years. I hoped he had forgotten all about me. But again, I couldn't refuse. I should have. I couldn't. They were my parents after all. The only thing I learned about family was that it should _appear_ intact and that others had to believe everything was fine. To pretend that everything was alright. It was rooted deep down within me and I obliged. I even had them stay at my place. If I had only known. They weren't coming to visit me at all. Why should they?"

"Dad made it pretty clear that I was a loser in his eyes. Could there be anything more worthless than being a GP in Portwenn? That wasn't a career! The house was not big enough, I should invest more, get a decent house. He couldn't see that being responsible for the welfare of a community can be quite rewarding." Louisa smiled. She had no idea that he felt about his position in Portwenn that way.

"Then he innocently questioned me about the value of properties in Cornwall. I'm such an idiot! I honestly answered what I thought Joan's farm was worth. Of course he quoted _me_ when he addressed Joan about his claim on her farm. Joan was _really_ angry with me. Mother putting the pressure on me telling me she wanted us to go home. Joan throwing me out. Dad being smug. I was lost." Martin sighed. Louisa wasn't sure if she should ask the question that was burning in her mind. To test if she had figured out what happened. She had to risk it now or would never find out.

"I'm glad that you could solve it for Joan. How much did you pay your father?"

Alarmed Martin turned around and glowered over at her. "Joan did tell you then. Can't anyone keep anything to themselves?"

"She didn't tell, but it wasn't too difficult to work out. If your father thought he was entitled to part of the heritage there are just two possibilities for him not to claim it. There could be legal proof that he was wrong and had no right to claim it. Joan would know more about that and she's quite capable of fighting her own battle. So there would have been no need for you to interfere. The only other way I can think of is that he was compensated. Joan is always short of money. Therefore she would have had to sell her farm to be able to pay him off. So I guessed that you paid him off." Martin nodded. It made sense. "How much did you pay?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Must have been quite a sum."

"I could manage."

"Why are you so shy about it? Joan told me you didn't even want her to know, but that your father didn't respect that. She was not sure if she would be on speaking terms with you if he hadn't told her. Why did you risk that?"

"It was nothing. That was what families are there for, isn't it? Everyone would have done it. Joan shouldn't feel she has to be thankful."

"Oh Martin." Louisa sighed in exasperation. "Even you must know that very few people would pay so much money for someone else. Especially when it was just an aunt."

"What do you mean '_just an aunt_'! Joan is the only family I ever had!"

"I wasn't belittling her. Honestly. But it's not the closest relative – like parent or child. And even for them I hardly know anyone who would do it."

Martin grunted disapprovingly. He didn't have to think twice at the time. He hadn't seen any other solution, so it was natural for him to pay his father off.

"But what did your mother say about it?" Martin grunted.

"She had caused the whole turmoil. Father and his brilliant investment." Martin spat out a bitter laugh. "He had lost all his bloody money in some dodgy business. They just had their villa in Portugal as it was officially mother's. So she was about to leave my father to move in with some lover. Father had virtually nothing."

"But she surely wouldn't leave after such a long marriage just because he was financially unlucky."

"You don't know my mother. She had married my father for his money and status. For more than 40 years that was the only reason why she had stayed with him."

Louisa just thought about it and it hit her, that this was covering almost all of Martin's life.

"So throughout your whole life they were just married out of convenience."

Martin nodded.

"So you never saw signs of love between them ever?"

Martin shook his head. He took a deep breath. "Dad lost interest after I was born. He didn't see her as a woman anymore, just a mother. A '_deflated balloon'._"

"Martin!"

He realised that Louisa felt offended. So he quickly reassured her: "It's not what I think! I'm just quoting! Honest!"

Louisa looked in shock towards him.

"It was what Mum said."

"You're not serious?" Louisa gasped. Martin turned towards the windows again.

"She never wanted to be a mother. She wanted to fool around with dad and have a posh, carefree life. A _needy_ child like me didn't fit in."

Louisa couldn't bear any longer to watch his back. She got up and went over to him. He didn't turn around, so she leaned against his back to show him that she was there.

"Why did they have you in the first place then?"

"I suppose Dad wanted a '_son and heir'_. Couldn't have been more disappointed. Fortunately they never tried it again. I suppose mother would have objected strongly." Something suddenly hit Louisa.

"Why do you know all this? Who told you?"

"Mum did. During the last visit. She didn't speak to me. She was staying at my place and didn't speak to me. I couldn't bear it any longer and asked her why. Then she told me that I had ruined her life. 40 years wasted just because of me. 40 years clinging to my father, just because of me." Louisa was shocked and squeezed his arm to comfort him. Suddenly he turned around and with anger in his eyes he shot at her.

"Actually, do you know what I did after she accused me of ruining her life?"

"What?"

"I apologised!"

"You, what? There are dozens of things that come to my mind that I would have done to her. Apologising is none of them."

"I know. I can't believe it now, either. At the time it seemed right to me. Now I'm furious that I did it. Today, I certainly would react otherwise. At one point I thought I should tell her what I really think. Then I realised, that there's no use in bothering. I simply don't want to see them again, ever."

Martin was quiet for a time. Then he sighed and continued.

"You know, funny thing is that I was always convinced it way my fault. I mean…" he swallowed "…I'm not really the most likable person. No one ever liked me. So why should my parents?"

"I was always pretty sure the way they treated me was perfectly justified. To keep me in check, they had to be strict. Before talking about it with Whitby, I never questioned it. He told me that their behaviour was outrageous. I would have never realised that myself, and even when he told me, I just accepted it intellectually. It was a pure head thing."

"Just seeing Peter being happy when he's with you, seeing him – being so much like me – actually thoroughly happy, I realise what kind of life I could have had. How different things might have been. How much I missed."

"It's not too late?" Louisa suggested hopefully.

Martin looked down at Louisa, thoroughly sad. "Oh Louisa, it's so darn difficult." He sighed. "I really try to make it work, but I have to watch myself all the time, always on guard that I don't hurt you again. And then, I go and do it. Then my old habits get the better of me and I can see how much I hurt you. I don't know how long I can stand that. You know about old dogs?"

"But thankfully you're not a dog." Louisa laughed. "I don't think I told you yet, but I'm very proud of you. Proud, how you have tried to get a grip on your life. I'm also quite flattered that you went through all this for me. It will be difficult, but we will get there. Maybe you can even be happy someday."

"Just make sure that Peter is happy, I would like to see what could have been if my childhood had been different."

Now he had capitulated. Louisa put her hands around him, squeezed him as good as she could and whispered into his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"Please, don't be. That's exactly why I didn't want to tell you."

"Were you so shocked to see me pregnant because of that?"

"I think it was part of the problem. Mother made it clear she had ceased to exist as a woman because she had me. Now I had done the same to you."

Louisa reached up to stroke his hair. "You silly man! I always wanted to have children. I was delighted. Not about the circumstances, but the child was the best thing that could have happened to me." Louisa stayed in that embrace, trying to cope with all this sad information. Then suddenly she thought about her behaviour towards Martin while she was expecting Peter. She looked up at Martin, gently placing one hand on his cheek.

"Oh Martin! And then I behaved so insensitively towards you during my pregnancy! You must have felt that history was repeating itself!"

"I thought it was perfectly understandable. Given what I had done to you."

"It was bound to go wrong between us. You really should have told me. Thank you for your trust."

Bashfully he looked down, taking on a definite shade of red. Louisa smiled. She was glad that she finally knew. He really hadn't had a chance to react correctly to the news of being a father. She took his hand and dragged him to the sofa. He sat down and she curled up beside him. He had absentmindedly started to stroke her hair. After a while Martin said: "You know, I wanted to tell you about my parents at the time of their visit." Louisa was surprised and looked up at him.

"But when I came around to offer to talk to you, you just told me to shut up."

"You had chosen the worst possible moment to turn up. That's why I wanted to apologise later, but then you were too busy with _Danny_."

There was still jealousy in his voice. Although Danny was somewhere in London, it was him she was leaning onto now.

"Oh, I remember. When you came because Danny's lungs had collapsed. When you made that horrid comment about Danny and me having a _history_ together."

"Before I even came into the house, I already wanted to apologise. You didn't let me."

"Actually, I thought Danny was dying, so I didn't feel like chatting."

"So we both chose the wrong moment to speak."

"The tragedy of our relationship. I hope we're more in tune now."

She sat up slightly to rest herself against his shoulder, stroking it lightly. He smiled down at her.

"Do you know how it felt seeing you and Danny renovating his house for the two of you?"

"I guess I know how it feels – like seeing Edith in your kitchen."

Martin took in a deep breath to protest violently against this comparison, but for once decided to keep silent.

"At least they're both a thing of the past now. Let's allow them to rest there, shall we?"

"Yes, Martin." She was glad that he finally was able to control himself better. She had noticed that he was about to say something nasty. It was almost palpable. The more she appreciated that he had changed his mind. She was even more glad that he put his arm around her and pressed her closer.

"In one point your father was right." Louisa sighed contentedly.

"What point's that?" Martin raised an eyebrow.

"You drugged me to keep me."

"You can't possibly think…you're not accusing me…?" Martin stuttered indignantly.

"Face it, Martin. Whenever you touch me you send a true overdose of endorphins through my body. You should know."

Martin smiled, leaned down and with a gentle kiss he gave her another shot of her hormone therapy. By now Louisa was sure of one thing - she wanted to reward him for finally opening up to her.

_To be continued…_


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Later that evening Louisa wanted to watch some telly. Martin sat on the sofa and Louisa lay down to let her head rest on his shoulder. First he sat stiffly hardly daring to move not to disturb Louisa. He also had to concentrate hard on not to comment on the rubbish he had to watch. Couldn't they put the television licence fees to better use? It was beyond him what Louisa saw in this show. Mostly he thought Louisa had a fine brain, but in moments like this he wasn't quite so sure. No one in his right state of mind could possibly find anything interesting in this broadcast. However, he knew that criticising would most probably lead to further discussions. To be honest, he had enough of those for one weekend. So he thought about something else to do.

Soon he thought of something, but wasn't quite sure if it would be right. He still felt uncomfortable about the thoughts Louisa seemed to stir in him. He stole a shy glance now and then, still contemplating if he should go for it.

Louisa was all but too aware of his glances and realised how uncomfortable he seemed, but she was determined to get him used to these familiarities. She smiled to herself. There was most probably no man more insecure when it came to the opposite sex than Martin. That she had succeeded to bed him surely proved just how much she meant to him. She didn't want to drag him now. He just had to get used to her touch. Even when his hands rested on the sofa as if they didn't belong to him. He seemed quite tense. She just hoped he would learn how to relax in her presence.

Louisa seemed so relaxed lying there. He loved her weight on his shoulder. Seemingly absentmindedly she had put one hand on his thigh. Didn't she know what she did to him? Slowly he lifted one hand off the sofa, the one nearer to Louisa, and slowly started to rub her shoulder. Her top had slightly slipped to expose her skin there. He didn't know that Louisa had chosen that particular top because of this exact effect. Martin noticed that Louisa didn't object, but cuddled even closer into him. So he started caressing her more intensely, not caring about the telly any longer. The program in front of the screen was far more interesting.

At last the final credits were rolling and Louisa reached for the remote control to switch the TV off.

"That was nice." She stated satisfied.

"I don't know. It was quite…dull, I'd say." Martin couldn't help stating, but in a mellow tone.

"I never miss an episode. One of my guilty pleasures, I suppose. Was it really that bad, sitting here with me, watching this?" She purred, gently stroking his chest.

"Eeehm…No…I mean…" She could see that her actions had the desired effect. His concentration started to falter. Always a good sign.

"I think we had better continue the evening somewhere else."

"Where do you want to go?" Martin asked alarmed. She surely didn't want to spoil this lovely evening at home?

"Not far. Just…" Her eyes pointed towards the stairs. She was all but too aware that in 24 hours he would be back in London. So she had to make the most of Saturday evenings. On the day before he had been '_too tired' _and she could imagine that this would be the case for most of their Friday nights. She could understand that after working the whole week in such a strenuous job and then having the bother of the long journey he might not be in the mood for some _action_. With only two nights a week in his company, she couldn't let too many opportunities slip through her fingers.

She still waited desperately for the time when he would finally lead _her_ up the stairs. For now it was the old routine of her grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the stairs. At least the resistance had worn off.

She quickly but thoroughly freshened up in the bathroom, getting into something more _comfortable_ before he disappeared into the bathroom. Louisa always wondered why he never changed into something more comfortable when he got ready for bed. She supposed he might like it when she undressed him. Either way, she didn't mind removing all that was the _official_ Martin to let the _pure_ Martin appear.

Tonight was no different. He appeared in her bedroom with his shirt buttoned up and completely dressed. She would change that soon. He gawped at her. He still couldn't believe his luck to see such beauty in a bedroom that he was allowed to share. He closed the door behind him and then allowed Louisa to do whatever she liked, and he knew that he would like it, too.

Slowly she started to undress him, enjoying his reactions and seeing his eyes filling with lust. After a while, she had managed to undress him down to his boxer shorts. While he was lying on his back, she sat astride him, wearing only her panties and her bra, running her hands over his chest. He was just about to heave himself up to bury his face into her neck when both of them were stopped in their actions by a meek voice: "Mummy, I'm thirsty."

Martin's eyes widened in terror. He started to stir trying to get Louisa off his chest and cover himself. This was soooo embarrassing! Louisa made no move to help him to get out of his embarrassment. Instead she had slumped onto him, her head on his chest, and started laughing. He couldn't believe it! Peter was standing there, staring at them, and she was laughing! He didn't know how to make himself decent without throwing Louisa off. Urgently he whispered to her that she should get off him, struggling desperately.

"Why are you fighting with Daddy?" The innocent voice came. Martin looked to his offspring with pure horror. How should he ever be able to face him again? Martin had taken on a deep shade of red by now. Louisa saw her embarrassed lover and couldn't help to see the funny side of things. Peter wouldn't know what was going on anyhow. Somehow she had expected him to disturb them at some critical moment sooner or later. Unfortunately it was sooner.

Finally she got off Martin, grabbed her dressing gown to slip it over herself and took Peter by his hand, assuring him that they would get a nice glass of water, and then Peter would be a good boy and go back to bed. As soon as Martin was relieved of Louisa's weight, he desperately got hold of the blanket and disappeared underneath it.

Moments later, Louisa had provided the water for her son and put him firmly back to bed and returned to continue where they had been interrupted. In the meantime, Martin had put on his pyjama bottoms and sleeping T-shirt and had disappeared under the blanket. He had turned onto his side, with his back to Louisa.

Louisa removed her dressing gown and slipped next to him.

"We haven't finished yet." She purred into his ear, stroking the back of his head. Martin tried to brush her hand away as if she was a stinging insect, but she wouldn't give up just yet.

"Come on, Peter will be fast asleep by now. No disturbances until the morning, I presume." She had slid her hand under his top, starting to run her fingernails over his chest.

"Just stop it!" He grunted. She knew that he was deeply embarrassed and so decided to be patient with him.

Instead she thought that desperate times called for desperate measures. So instead of running her fingers up his chest, she reversed the trail. He stubbornly rested on his side, making no attempts to help her to revive their actions. Just shortly before she had reached her destination, he grabbed her hand. "Don't!" There was panic in his voice.

"Don't tell me you're not in the mood any longer. This gives you away." And forcing her way despite his desperate attempts to stop her, she finally let her fingers glide along the very firm evidence that he was indeed _very_ interested. Nevertheless, he just brusquely turned around to yell at her. "You can't _possibly_ expect me to go on as if nothing had happened. He has seen us!" His voice cracked.

"That can't be changed anymore, Martin. Do you really think he already understood what we were up to?"

"I don't care what he understood or did not understand! How could you let me be embarrassed like this? Why couldn't you just let me grab the blanket to cover myself? And how on earth could you … laugh?" He spat the last word in disgust. As much as he loved Louisa, sometimes he didn't understand her at all.

"Sorry, Martin. You blushed so wonderfully."

"Oh, and you found my embarrassment amusing. Very funny."

"Come on, not much had happened, after all." She gently bit his neck.

"Sorry, Louisa. I…I just can't." He rolled over to his side. He was not about to let anything happen tonight. Even when he needed all his self-control he could muster.

Louisa realised that this night was spoilt once and for all. So she slipped into her pyjamas and went back to bed. She poked Martins shoulder: "At least turn around. I just want to cuddle close." He looked towards her over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, not being sure if he could trust her. "Promise." Louisa assured him.

Finally he turned around and with him lying on his back, Louisa could at least rest her head on his chest. When Martin realised that she really was just snuggling up to him, he relaxed and put his arm around her. Embraced like this, they slowly drifted off.

_To be continued…_


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

The next day was parting time again. In the afternoon, Martin had to board the train to London. Before that, they would have a family lunch at Joan's farm.

Martin had been awake first, and after enjoying Louisa's weight against his body for some time, he got up, got ready for the day and started to prepare breakfast. He had laid out the table, prepared some good coffee for himself and a nice cuppa for Louisa, and now the only thing that was missing was Louisa. So he just looked out the French windows and enjoyed the view over the harbour. How much he had missed that, even though it was still peculiar for him to be on the other side of the harbour.

Finally he heard activity above, but there were definitively two different sorts of footsteps. So Peter was already up, too. Martin could feel his throat tighten. He had no idea how he would be able to face his son again. Letting Louisa see him in his boxer shorts – or even out of them – was one thing. But anyone else was definitely something else. Even when that someone else was barely two years old. He looked over to the stairs where two pairs of feet made the descent. Louisa noticed immediately the nicely laid out table – it had definite advantages to having Martin around – and Martin, looking anxiously over to his son was blushing visibly. She smiled to herself. Even when Peter's appearance had ruined the intimacy for the rest of the night, it had almost been worth it as Martin had looked so cute in his desperate but useless attempt to regain his decency. After all, she loved his clumsiness in situations like this.

Peter headed straight for the breakfast table. Eating seemed to be one of his most favourite activities. Only after encouragement from Louisa, he remembered to wish his Daddy a good morning. Martin looked as if nothing could make this morning good. He gave Peter a scrutinising look to find out if Peter was still upset or showed any reaction at all to last nights sighting. However, Peter was obviously just interested in a slice of toast. Louisa came over to Martin, to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "Did you at least sleep well?"

"Eeeehm…thanks, yes. Apart from the snoring."

"Oh, don't mind. I didn't hear you." Louisa knew exactly what he meant, but thought that if she turned the table on him, he would sooner or later give up. Martin on the other hand was taken aback. How could she dare to imply that _he_ had been snoring! As soon as he had opened his mouth, still not sure what to say, Louisa quickly ordered him to sit down so that they could have breakfast. Martin proved to be not very hungry, but instead kept constantly peeking towards Peter. Peter himself found the toast thickly covered with strawberry jam far more interesting.

After breakfast, Peter rushed to play with a little wooden farm. Louisa smiled wryly as she knew how much Peter loved animals of any sort and could just start to imagine the discussions that would cause with Martin. He certainly had to get used to that. And something else bothered her. No matter how valuable the time with Martin was, she desperately needed to mark the grammar tests. She had to give them back on the following day, especially as new work was soon flooding in. There was no use in waiting until the evening. She always found long drives tiresome and was quite sure that she wouldn't be able to do it after she had dropped Martin at Truro station. So reluctantly she asked Martin if he would mind if she just started doing her marking. "No. Of course. But…"

"What?"

"Would you mind if I read some articles?"

"Of course not! Why should I?"

Martin cautiously looked over to Peter, remembering how he had been forced to play with him the day before.

"Don't worry. Peter knows exactly how he wants his little farm to work. He hates anyone else messing around. The only one he allows close to his precious livestock is Joan. She has certainly taught him a lot about animals." Martin grunted, his face screwed up. "He seems to become quite an expert. Maybe he can take over Joan's farm when he's grown up. Joan would love that."

"I bet. Louisa, I really can't understand…"

"Well, you don't have to." Louisa decided to cut his objections short. "Better get your article." With that she got up to fetch her paperwork.

Martin liked the morning very much. He could read his medical journal in quiet, but had the pleasure of glancing over to Louisa regularly, who was sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by piles of sheets. Sometimes he also glanced over at Peter, who was absorbed in his world of farming. Martin didn't mind as long as the animals were made of wood. At some point he had to inform Louisa about the health hazards that living animals presented to humans, especially children. She had to see reason, surely. She couldn't be that daft.

Maybe Martin wasn't realising it yet, but he started to get a sense of family. He felt comfort just relishing the presence of Louisa and Peter, while he did something he enjoyed – expanding his medical knowledge. At the same time, he was looking forward to having dinner at Joan's farm later on.

Louisa was desperate. Some pupils seemed to understand nothing at all about the English language. Surely it wasn't that difficult at all. Thinking about the stupidity of the human race, she looked over to Martin, engrossed in his reading. He looked far more relaxed today. She really hoped the '_family thing_' could work after all.

Noon was approaching quickly and without any incidences. Finally Louisa put the tests aside, almost but not quite finished, and pointed out that it was time to prepare to go to Joan's. Martin sighed. Had the weekends always passed so quickly? Time seemed to go faster down in Cornwall. He remembered the endless hours he had spent in London waiting desperately for Monday when the full program in the operation theatre would start again. It was impossible that these few hours he had spent here should equal to the same amount of time.

Louisa would take him to the station after the visit at Joan's farm. So he went upstairs to pack his trolley bag. Sadly but carefully he searched for all his things to pack.

He changed into one of his usual suits. Louisa had been disappointed on Friday to see him come out of the train wearing one of his trademark suits. Later, she had commented on it, expressing her disappointment and telling him how much she had liked his casual outfits. Martin had been indignant. How could she possibly expect him to run around in public like that! He was perfectly happy to wear the casual clothes for her, at home or when they took a walk, as far as possible from any living soul. In fact, he had brought down some of his casual clothes to please Louisa and wear them for her around the house. However, there was no chance that he would board the train – or even be seen in the village – in them. Louisa had tried to assure him that even in his casual clothes he looked by far smarter than most men, but he simply didn't feel comfortable.

Finally, he was ready to leave. He checked again if he hadn't forgotten anything. He even peeked into Peter's room, although there couldn't possibly be any of his belongings there. He didn't allow himself to think that maybe he just wanted to see it again before he had to leave. Slowly he made his way down the stairs.

Louisa watched him descend the stairs. She smiled sadly as he looked so much like the stiff, official Martin of the old days. Only the small locks gave him away. She went over to him, stroking his cheek and neck. "This time you don't have to be ashamed to turn up in hospital again." She said tenderly, playing with his neck which had shown signs of their passion the week before.

Martin put his trolley bag down, placing his hand onto hers. "I really didn't mind. Whenever I doubted it had been real, I touched the bruise and knew it had been true. Still I can hardly believe that…I will have to remind myself now. Assuring myself that it hasn't been just another dream."

Louisa was touched. Out of the blue, this stupid man could say the most romantic things without even noticing it. She had to swallow hard. It was such a shame that he only allowed glimpses of this to show from time to time. She looked deep into his eyes, which were staring at her. They both forgot the world around them, until Peter croaked "Can we go now?"

Louisa had to tear herself away, stroked Peter on the head, assuring him that they would be going in just a moment.

"Got everything?" Martin looked around.

"I suppose so."

"Then we have to go, I suppose."

"Yes."

Peter was glad. He could hardly wait to get to Joan, because first there would be loads of food and secondly he was looking forward to playing around with the chickens. They were already at the door, when Louisa dashed back, saying "I just got an idea!" Moments later she reappeared, assuring them that they were ready to go.

When they arrived at the farm, the lunch was already waiting. Martin hugged his aunt stiffly. Louisa watched this. It was beyond her why he obviously felt so awkward hugging her properly although by now Louisa had realised how much Joan meant to him – and vice versa. This man really had problems showing his affection. In fact, she was quite lucky that he let her that close.

Peter was rushing towards his favourite aunt. OK, she was also his only aunt, but he wasn't aware of that right now. Soon he claimed all of Joan's attention. Martin waited for Louisa to go into the house and followed. They sat down to eat immediately. Joan inquired about the weekend, about Martin's arrival time in London. Just some light conversation. When Peter had satisfied his most urgent appetite, he spluttered: "Auntie Joan, did you know that Mummy is stronger than Daddy?"

"Peter, you must be wrong. Your Daddy is far stronger than your Mum." She looked over to Martin with affection. She loved that he was referred to as '_Daddy_'. It was about time.

"No. I saw. They were fighting…and…and…Dad was on his back and Mum was on top of him." Peter told Joan excitedly. Immediately Joan threw her nephew a knowing look, who himself blushed visibly, while Louisa looked down, trying to avoid looking at him afraid she might burst into laughter all over again.

"Maybe you've got something wrong. Or Daddy wanted to let your Mum win. You shouldn't say such things about others, you know." Joan replied to her grand-nephew innocently.

"But I saw. Really." Peter tried to defend himself. Martin felt totally embarrassed by now and just hissed towards Louisa "Can't you make him stop, for heaven's sake?"

Louisa couldn't help herself and started to giggle. Finally, it was too much for Martin. Energetically he put the napkin down, got up declaring that he needed some air and stalked out.

Still trying to control her giggles, Louisa bent over to Peter. "Peter, you shouldn't talk about everything you see. Especially when one or two people were alone in the room when you stumbled in. Sometimes they don't want everyone to know."

"But Daddy shouldn't feel bad that you won. Is he angry?"

"You made Daddy feel really bad."

"I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't want to."

"I know you didn't, but in future, just don't tell everything you see. Promise?"

"Yes, I promise." Peter smiled.

"And now, just go to Daddy and say you're sorry." Peter was a nice little boy and immediately did as Louisa had told him. He really felt bad that he had upset his Dad.

As soon as Peter had left the room, Louisa couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Oh, that was priceless!" She gasped. Joan couldn't help but chuckle herself.

"Marty must have been furious."

"Oh, he behaved himself alright. Just felt humiliated to no end. I told him there was no need to be." Louisa still giggled. "The only problem is, I don't know how to get him into bed ever again." Some more laughter.

Joan couldn't help laughing herself, although she felt deeply for her stiff nephew. But Louisa was right, seeing the expression on his face had been priceless.

At the same time, Martin felt someone tucking at his sleeve. He had to get out of the room. It had been too embarrassing. What would Auntie Joan think of him? And Louisa was really no help at all. She could be infuriating at times. He still contemplated his anger, when he felt his sleeve being pulled at. When he looked down, he saw Peter with a concerned expression tiptoeing to reach the sleeve. Rather gruffly, Martin spat "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Hmmmph…" Martin looked indignant.

"I didn't mean to make you angry. But it's no problem when Mummy is stronger. Don't feel bad about it."

Martin still didn't feel better. Why did this child kept babbling about it? Couldn't it just shut up?

Some more tucking on the sleeve.

"Please Daddy. Don't be angry."

Finally Martin crouched to face his son.

"That was very cruel. Don't do that again." There was still an acid tone in Martin's voice.

"I already promised Mum. I won't talk about it."

"That's a good boy."

Louisa finally took control of her laughing fits and decided it was time to look after Martin. When she stepped out of the house, she saw him talking to his son at eye level. When she approached she could hear Peter: "You must say that you're not angry."

"OK, Peter. I'm not angry."

By now Louisa had reached the pair of them and let her hand glide gently over Martins back, as he was still crouching in front of Peter. Slowly he got up. Louisa first turned to Peter.

"Did you say you're sorry?"

"Yes, Mummy. He is really sad. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Peter. Just remember not talking about everything you see. Now go to Auntie Joan. She's all alone in there." He trotted inside.

"Are you feeling better?" Louisa asked concerned.

Martin took a deep breath. "I really can't believe it! How can you be so…so…"

"Don't get upset."

"Not upset! How can you ever expect me to go in there again?" He gestured towards the farm. "I'm thoroughly disgraced!"

"Come on. It's not that bad, is it?"

"You seem to be having a ball! You don't think of my …my…embarrassment even for a second!"

"Peter saw me just as he saw you. So why do you think you're the only one embarrassed?"

"You certainly don't look embarrassed."

"What should I do? It has happened. To be honest – not much harm has been done, has it?"

"Not much harm! Not only has my own son.." He couldn't finish the sentence out of disgust. "No, Joan also knows that we…we…"

"…that we were about to have sex. Do you really think she suspected you to sleep on the sofa, a huge safety zone between us? She knew you were staying at my place and I think it is safe to say that she presumed what Peter just confirmed."

Martin was breathing heavily, wildly looking around. He couldn't believe what was happening. How could Louisa be so calm about it?

Now Louisa tucked on his sleeve. "Relax! It's all in the family. And after all, Peter and I will intrude your precious privacy from time to time. It can't be helped if we are living together."

Martin turned away from her brusquely. She stepped around to face him, putting her palms on his chest. "Martin! Come inside. Peter will not talk about it anymore. He promised." Martin just hissed, trying to avoid looking at her.

"Joan is worried about you. Come in."

"I…I simply can't." His voice was still shaking.

"You don't want to spend the rest of your time down here in front of the chicken coop, do you?"

Martin looked around, visibly upset.

"Look, Martin. I accepted that you drew back last night in bed, but this is going too far. You have to compose yourself."

"I…I know."

"Speaking about it…when do you presume you'll be ready to take up our bedtime activities again?"

"You don't want to discuss this here?" He asked under his breath.

"Why not? Are you afraid the chicken might overhear us?" Louisa thought being shy was one thing, but what this man was doing was certainly something else.

"Don't be ridiculous! But Joan's in there!"

"And she must have ears like a bat to hear what we're talking out here. So it's perfectly safe." She tried to sound reassuring. She realised he needed all the support he could get to finally overcome this ridiculous awkwardness.

"I just want to know when you are willing to sleep with me again." He hated this conversation. It was beyond him that she could talk so easily about it.

"I certainly won't risk being ….being…

"…Caught in the act?" Louisa suggested helpfully. Martin looked at her in sheer shock, clearing his throat and taking on a deeper shade of red yet again.

"Eeeehmm…well…what I mean…"

"So what should we do, in your opinion?"

"Just…don't do it?" At least Louisa was satisfied that she could hear a bit of disappointment in his voice.

"Martin, we will share our home with Peter for at least the next 16 years. You certainly don't expect me to lie innocently next to you for all that time?" Martin swallowed hard, but the thought of repeating last nights experience was too much for him.

Louisa reached up to stroke her hand through his hair, saying: "It isn't going to work. I _want_ you." Having her hand on the back of his neck now, trying to pull him close for a kiss, she whispered: "And I mean I want _all_ of you." He resisted her urge to pull him down, looking anxiously if anyone could possibly see them.

"I almost believe you could really manage lying next to me for so many years. But I can't." She gently tousled his hair. He felt exposed again and frantically started to comb his hair with his fingers. "Just stop it!" He hissed. Louisa sighed in exasperation.

"Oh man, you've got a problem." She sighed, almost inaudibly, but only almost.

"What was that?"

"Sorry, Martin. I'm getting impatient again. I'm rushing you, aren't I?" He looked guiltily at her.

"All I really want, Martin, is a _normal_ relationship. That's all I ask for." Martin was shifting uncomfortably. As he tended to look away from her, Louisa placed her hand again at the back of his head, forcing him to look at her.

"But that's what you want, too, isn't it? That's why you came back?"

"I beg your pardon! I certainly just didn't come because I…I…I wanted to…uuuhmm…" Martin was gesturing helplessly up and down her body, clearing his throat.

"No, I know. That's not what I mean. I know you wouldn't come back just to have someone to share your bed – or my bed in this case. I know you're a good, a decent man." A bit too decent, she thought, but didn't want to embarrass him further. She really loved this soft expression of his, when he seemed to melt away by just looking at her.

"But you did want to be part of our family, didn't you? Listen, we have almost a whole week to think about it. You think about your attitude about the physical side of our relationship and if you can find a way to, well, satisfy me without being too embarrassed." Louisa purred, again starting to draw his head closer, this time with more success "And I'll try to think of some measures to ensure greater privacy without shutting Peter out completely. He must have ways to get to me in case he really needs something. At least for the next couple of years." By now she had managed to pull him close enough to bring her mouth to his ear. She whispered to him "Promise to try." And stroking his hair she tenderly kissed him on the lips.

Unbeknownst to both of them, they were being watched by Joan from one of the windows. She had looked out of the window trying to figure out what was taking them so long. She really was happy for Marty that he finally had someone who cared for him, but she also shook her head watching how he let Louisa make all the effort.

Martin just stared into her eyes. He still couldn't believe the mesmerizing effect they had on him. No one had ever had an effect on him like this. He had always been a bit astonished when people had been lovesick. Just sentimental fools that couldn't control themselves, he thought. But Louisa had altered this view completely. She stirred something in him that was hard to control. He felt that he had started to respond to her kiss. He enjoyed the sensation of her lips exploring his very much, until he suddenly remembered that Joan could step out of the door every second.

Quickly he broke away, but he couldn't bring himself to turn to the farm or remove himself from Louisa's spell. For a few moments they just stared at each other, until he could feel Louisa's hand softly caressing his cheek. He wasn't sure if Louisa had any idea about the effect she had on him.

"Better?" Louisa asked tenderly, bringing Martin back to reality.

"What? Uuuhhmm…yes…I'll think about it."

"Do you think you can come for a little walk with all of us now?"

Anxiously he looked over to the entrance. He dreaded to face Auntie Joan, but he also realised that sooner or later he had to.

"I'm just telling you now – one funny remark and I'm off!"

"Hiking to Truro station? Don't worry. We'll try to behave" With that Louisa took his hand and pulled him towards the door. Entering the kitchen, Martin realised with shock that Peter was playing with Buddy, Joan's horrid dog. "Don't, don't touch that." He said to Peter in disgust. Peter didn't know what he was talking about.

Joan scolded her nephew "Leave it. Everyone needs _something_ to play with."

Martin was about to retreat immediately, but Louisa stopped him. "Why don't we all go for a walk, take the dog out?" Martin knew by now that this kind of question from Louisa didn't require an answer. They were to rather be treated as an order. But Joan didn't want to. She had much too much work to do on the farm. She certainly didn't need to walk around to get her exercise. However, Louisa made it clear that she needed her, so the four of them headed off.

When Peter grew tired or it wasn't safe enough to let him run around, Martin would pick him up. Slowly, he grew more confident about picking his son up. Even Peter didn't mind, as Martin would carry him for longer than Louisa had been able to.

Finally they reached the cliff path overlooking Portwenn. Louisa suddenly stopped.

"Is anything wrong, Louisa?" Martin asked concerned. Louisa started to rummage through her handbag.

"I just …Where is it?...Ah, here it is!" Louisa said triumphantly getting a digital camera out of her bag.

"Joan, would you mind taking a photo of the three of us with the village as the backdrop?" she asked Joan. And towards Martin "It'll help you to remember us. And don't worry – it is for real."

"Louisa, really, I think I'd rather not." Martin whispered urgently to Louisa, so that Joan wouldn't hear.

"But you wanted some memories, didn't you?"

"I'm sure I can manage to remember. I…I don't like to get my photograph taken."

"Why not? A handsome man like you."

"Very funny!"

"I know you don't want to hear it, but for me you are." Martin just stared at her.

"If you don't want to do it so that you have something, can't you do it for me? Having the three things I love most in one photo – Portwenn, Peter and you?"

"What about I take the photo of you and Peter? We don't have to bother Joan, do we?"

"I'm pretty sure it's no bother for Joan, and I _really_ want you to be with me in the photo."

"What do you want the photo for?" Martin asked cautiously.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to display it. Just for my wallet and a bigger version for the bedroom – for the times when the original is not available." Martin couldn't deny that he was touched, but even when they took the official photos of the hospital staff to put on the Intranet at the Imperial, he always had found some excuse. The only photos that existed of him were the ones for official papers and the security card of the hospital. However, if it meant so much to Louisa – couldn't he just give in?

"If you insist."

"I don't. But it would mean so much to me." Martin thought about it for a moment.

"But you have to promise that no one will see it."

"It's just for me, really."

"OK."

"That's wonderful. Thank you very much!"

Joan hadn't heard anything of this conversation, but assumed that her nephew was just being _difficult_ again. She was a bit relieved when she finally saw Louisa throw her arms around him, and kiss him quite exuberantly.

Louisa arranged the picture – Martin had Peter on his arm, Louisa leaned against his other arm. The three of them were positioned so that they were overlooking Portwenn harbour beneath them. Joan took several photos. Louisa inspected them immediately on the display. The result was a mixed one. The blue sky and the sunbathed harbour were just perfect, as was Louisa who smiled broadly up towards her Martin. On the downside was a very awkward looking Martin Ellingham and Peter, who both couldn't help but looking towards Louisa as if they wanted to be rescued.

Louisa wondered for a moment if she should try some more, but decided that it would hardly be of any use. After all, that's what her family was like. So she rushed back to Martin, embracing him once again. "Thanks very much. It's nice. I email you the photos, if you give me your address."

"No! You can't! I mean – I just have the email account of the hospital. You never know who looks at the emails. It's not safe!"

"Oh." Louisa was a bit disappointed. She thought about it. "What if I embed them in a word-document and put a password on it. Would that help?"

Martin thought about it. "That might work."

"Done!" They agreed on a password and exchanged the email-addresses. While Louisa saved the information on her mobile, she noticed that time had flown by.

"Martin, I really hate to say it, but if you want to catch that train, we have to go back."

Far too soon they had reached Joan's farm again. Martin hugged his aunt stiffly and said good-bye. Peter was fastened in his child seat in the back, Martin sat down in the passenger seat and Louisa started the car. It was quite a drive to Truro, and whenever the traffic did allow, she peeked over to Martin. He didn't look too happy either. Louisa insisted that she and Peter would wait with him on the platform until the train left. She didn't want to waste one moment. Martin was concerned that he might hold her up.

"So, same spot next Friday?" Louisa asked.

"Yes." He said with a soft smile.

"I'm gonna miss you."

"Uuuuhm…I send you an SMS of which train I book."

"OK, and I send you the photos. I know you think it's - well, I suppose it is sentimental, but maybe you might look at them sometimes."

"Right." He saw the train approaching. He felt a lump in his stomach. He couldn't understand how he had survived without Louisa for so long. If he had been a sentimental person, he would say that it almost broke his heart to leave her. But of course he wasn't sentimental.

He stiffly stood next to Louisa, and while he was still contemplating how he should say his farewell given the fact that they were in public, his doubts were cut short by Louisa giving him a peck on his cheek.

"Got to go." He sighed.

Louisa plastered on one of her beautiful smiles and waved him goodbye as he boarded the train. He didn't dare to look out of the window too obviously, but he had chosen a seat where he could look at the platform with ease. Trying to seem uninterested, he watched Louisa secretly until the train had finally left Truro station for good. He sighed. Five whole days.

_To be continued…_


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

The next morning Martin sent an email to Whitby saying that he had to talk to him that evening. Urgently. Then he saved the photos on to a CDrom. It was time to catch up with his patients. There were lots of preparations and anamnesis to be done, even when he didn't have surgery on that particular day. However, he managed to take his lunch break. For a change, he didn't visit the canteen but went out, grabbing a sandwich from a nearby sandwich shop and made his way into a part of the city where he hoped no one would recognise him. To be sure, he took the tube to the outskirts. In a city like London that should guarantee enough privacy. He had searched the internet beforehand for a photo shop and headed there. He tried to act as naturally as possible, although it felt strange to hand the CDrom with the photos of _his_ family over the counter. He ordered a small print for his wallet and a bigger one, for which he bought a matching frame. He couldn't keep it on his desk, but one of the drawers could be locked. He would keep it there.

After doing some shopping, he returned to the hospital. He was relieved that he had managed not to run into any familiar faces at all. That was really the only advantage London had to offer. No one was interested in you.

He finished his work and returned to his room. As most of the staff had already headed home and the rest were probably busy or bored with the night shift, he felt safe to unlock the drawer and look at the picture. Then there was a knock on the door. Quickly he placed the frame back into the drawer, shut it and let the visitor in.

Whitby had been really worried when he had seen Ellingham's email. As Martin had told him he should turn up in the evening, he had waited until the on call begun. Now he entered the room dreading what he might find in there.

He was pleasantly surprised and astonished to find Ellingham looking calm and almost contented.

"What's the matter? Anything wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing happened. Why should anything be wrong?" Whitby was puzzled.

"But you asked me to come here urgently?"

"Yes."

"So something must have happened. You can tell me. You know that."

"There is nothing to tell. Just…eeehm…a second." Martin started to fumble around in his room. Whitby watched, still concerned but not quite understanding what was expected of him.

Finally Martin had gathered what he had bought earlier. He turned towards Whitby, handing over a huge bunch of flowers.

"Louisa thought, and actually I could just agree…here." Whitby reached out to take the flowers, still confused. Martin looked a bit bashful, trying to explain.

"For your wife. For letting you share my night shifts. Louisa thought I should thank you…her…Thanks."

"That's very kind of you. Thanks very much. So that was the emergency?"

"I didn't want to risk them withering away. I'm sorry if you're busy. I didn't want to hold you up. Just one more thing." Martin bent down to get something from underneath his desk. Whitby watched intrigued.

"That's for you. I heard you like Malt Whisky?"

"Yes. Thanks very much. I'm almost a collector. Oh, you weren't stingy with that one."

"I don't want to keep you. Sorry if I…"

"No problem. I was just worried. So how was your weekend?"

"Alright."

"By the way. Louisa called today."

"Really?" Martin had one eyebrow raised, looking quizzically towards the man he owed so much.

"Mainly wanted to thank me for helping you. I don't know what you have told her, but whatever it was, it must have been quite flattering."

"I just told her that I wouldn't have made it without you. I'm really thankful."

"She also was quite pleased about you, how much more approachable you were. How she understood you so much better now that you had finally told her how you felt."

Martin cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"She also inquired what you can do and just aren't willing to do and where your limits are. I'm afraid she's gonna push you right to your limits."

"Uuuuhm…I know. She's everything that I'm not."

"That's what you like?"

"I always wonder how someone who's actually quite bright can be so positive about people, so optimistic. Her spirits are always flying high. She's so cheerful. Mind you, she had quite a horrible childhood herself. Mother deserted them when she was little, father a gambler and thief. That couldn't have been easy at all. But somehow she didn't become…I don't know."

"Bitter? Disillusioned?"

"No, I know. She didn't become discouraged. I certainly don't know how she could do it."

"You envy her?" Martin paused for a moment before answering.

"No. Not envy. I admire her. Her guts."

"I see. She is very proud of you, too." Martin squirmed.

"No, really. She thinks that you've done quite well given your handicap and no support whatsoever for most of your life." Whitby watched Ellingham uncomfortably shifting in his chair.

"She's right, you know. Given the circumstances, you actually did quite well. Just allow her to be proud of you."

"She does whatever she thinks is right anyhow. She's quite determined." Whitby smiled at Martin's objection. He could hear that there was a lot of love.

"Are you getting used to the family thing?"

"Oh, don't talk about that. I was quite terrible."

"Just give yourself and your boy time to get used to each other."

"Louisa also thinks I'm too impatient, but I can see that I make the poor chap uncomfortable. I don't like that."

"It's just because it's new. Be there a couple of weekends and maybe during your holidays and it will turn out alright. You can do it."

"At his expense, I'm afraid."

"Don't sell yourself short. You two will get used to each other. Trust me. It just takes more time with you. Don't rush things."

"Louisa insisted that I played with him – the first time ended in tears, the second with a kick against my shinbone by her. Doesn't look to me like a good start." Whitby and Martin went over the events, and Whitby confirmed pretty much what Louisa had told Martin. Whitby was impressed that this woman turned out to be more sensitive than he had taken her for.

"Ellingham, remember this is your big chance to get a life that you never had, a family, a place where you belong. Don't be discouraged when it takes more work than you expected. Stop worrying that you cause any discomfort to your child. It just takes time to build a family, but the more time you invest, the stronger the bonds become. As far as I understand you are being supported by your aunt and your partner. What more do you want? You never had anyone to teach you how families work. I admit, you have to learn late in life and that doesn't make it any easier, but it might be your last chance. Isn't that what you want, family?"

"It's just so darn difficult. I feel like a fish out of water. I'm not used to sharing accommodation. I feel that I disturb her, and I have to admit I sometimes wish for a bit more privacy."

"The early stages of any relationship are always difficult. To find a pattern of life that suits everyone. Making compromises. Learn about the needs, fears and no-goes of others. It's even more difficult for you as you haven't lived together before and now there's an active child around while you're trying to sort things out. You have to make it the hard way. It takes longer, more effort. Just think what you can gain."

"Trouble is, I can't stand lying in bed alone anymore now since I experienced her wonderful presence. I still can't believe what she sees in me. She could have any man she liked."

"If you're in love, you naturally think that the partner is attractive and most can't understand why there is no one else seeing it. She mustn't have the same effect on others."

"No. That's a fact. I know it is." Martin paused. He had to think if that was what he wanted. Finally he opened the drawer and handed Whitby the framed picture. "She insisted that I should have a reminder of my family." He bashfully said.

Whitby looked at the picture. It was one of the weirdest family photos he had ever seen, as the emotions of the people involved couldn't be more different. Ellingham looking stiff, uncomfortable, reluctant to carry his boy. His son, on his arm, the spitting image of the father, desperately trying to reach over to his mummy, not at all happy about his father's presence. Finally Louisa. Leaning against Ellingham's shoulder, broadly smiling up to him while on the same time holding one of her son's hands to comfort him.

She was the only one looking happy in this photo. Whitby understood now what Ellingham meant when he described her as high spirited. She seemed to be a very unlikely match for this restrained surgeon – looking considerably younger, cheerful, astonishingly beautiful, but also quite obviously head over heels in love with Ellingham. Whitby could understand Ellingham's doubts now. It must be difficult to grasp for him that this beautiful woman should be all his. After so many years of having nothing and no one at all.

"You got yourself a beautiful woman there." Martin seemed to grow even a bit more, almost bursting with pride but trying not to show it.

"I told you she is absolutely gorgeous."

"Be assured, she sure loves you." Martin looked sceptically over to him.

"You're sure?"

"It's written all over her face." Martin blushed a bit.

"She always assures me that she does. I always find it so hard to believe."

"Do you tell her, too?"

"What?"

"That you love her." Martin paused. Come to think of it, he rarely told her exactly that.

"Once or twice, but she must know that."

"Women like to hear it now and then. It doesn't hurt to say it out loud."

"Right. When?"

"Oh, difficult to say. There's not a strict rule, if that's what you're looking for. But aren't there moments when you are aware of your feelings more clearly than at others? Tell her then."

"So often?"

"Well, you also don't have to overdo it!"

Whitby just stayed for a cup of tea and then headed home. His wife was pleasantly surprised about the flowers. She was also pleased to hear that her husband had all the evenings for themselves now that this patient had made such great progress.

_To be continued…_


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Meanwhile in Portwenn, Louisa and Joan had dinner together at White Rose Cottage. They discussed the developments of the last weeks and were happy about the way Martin tried to fit in now.

"That was delicious, Joan! Thanks for spoiling me."

"A small price for finally having a stand-in for a grandson."

"Ah, speaking about it. Are you still doing your delivery rounds on Saturday mornings?"

"Sure I do. Brings the best business as many private customers are at home, where I can charge higher prices for my organic vegetables. Why do you ask?"

"How long does it take, usually?"

"Oh no! Has Marty instructed you? Don't give me that! I'm not too old for that just yet. I really thought you knew better. He always thinks I should take it easier. But I love it!"

"No, Joan! Nothing like that! He doesn't even know that I'm talking about it with you. I'd just like to know how much time it takes?"

"About two to three hours."

"That would be about enough." Louisa muttered, more to herself.

"Enough? Enough for what?"

"Can you do with a little helper?"

"I don't need help just yet. I can manage."

"But it would help us, Martin and I, if you could accept a little help from Peter. You know how he loves everything to do with your farm."

"And you would have three hours all to yourselves. I see."

"You know what happened last weekend…or more precisely what did _not_ happen. I promised to think of some ways to secure more privacy."

"And to have Peter out of the house would be the safest bet."

"To be honest, yes – it would."

"So I'm to get the little contraceptive out of the way?"

"Well, it's just a thought. Peter would like driving around with you, and Martin could have the security he needs. You know, he actually suggested, in all seriousness, not to start anything again as long as Peter's staying with us. And yes, he did realise that this would be the case for at least the next 16 years!"

"That's Marty for you. You can't accuse him of being impatient in carnal matters or easily overwhelmed by his instincts."

"He sure isn't, but I'm not _quite_ that patient. We just have one bloody night a week where we actually can spend some high quality time together, if you know what I mean."

"I think I get the idea, but why one, not two?"

"Actually, Martin was quite tired Friday night, and I realised that this will probably be the case every week. He has a very demanding job and after the weekly pilgrimage to Cornwall, he must be exhausted."

"You're quite right. So that leaves you with Saturday night."

"Which was ruined by Peter's untimely thirst. At least he didn't come in ten minutes later. I'm afraid Martin would have been so traumatised that he would never even consider, well, such _activities_ anymore. I told him, as a sort of homework for the week, to re-think our physical side of our relationship."

"If I could get my hands on his lovely parents, I certainly would tell them a thing or two. They did a splendid job in planting all sorts of insecurities into him. Speaking of it, did he tell you what you wanted to know so desperately?"

"Thanks to your good advice. I told him my childhood story, and then pointed it out that it would just be fair to re-pay the trust. I'm really glad that he did tell me about his parents. I understand so much better now why he hasn't really had a chance to act correctly. For his parents to have a child almost counts as a criminal act. At least it _should_ have been forbidden."

"They did far more damage than if they had stolen something or even more than my father did with his gambling and horrible lies. However, everyone loathes my father, while Martin's parents are _respectable_, whatever that means. Life's really funny, isn't it?"

"Funny and cruel. Phil and I always wanted to have children, the more the merrier, but weren't able to. Christopher and Margaret were just eager to bring their genes into a next generation, and they hit it big with getting a child like Marty, which they didn't deserve, by the way."

"You're right, but I realised that it doesn't make much sense to cry over spilt milk. The damage is done. I'm just trying to concentrate on, maybe, softening some of the more irritating habits, and hopefully get some of his bloody old-fashioned, anti-pleasure behaviour out of him. So, we're back at the start of our talk – to get the cottage Peter-free for a couple of hours. As a reward I offer you breakfast for all of us after you've finished your deliveries and a mobile, so that you can call before you return."

"I'll be glad to take Peter. He's such a nice kid. We will have a great time and I will make sure that we don't rush."

"Thanks very much. By the way, are you still in contact with the craftsman that had the stall with the mobiles at the village fete last summer?"

"Who had the one with all the farm animals that Peter was so keen on?"

"And which I stupidly refused, exactly."

"You refused to buy it because it also had a considerable number of bells on it and you feared the noise."

"Well, noise is relative, isn't it? It can have its advantages, too, but I didn't see it back then." Louisa gave Joan a wry smile.

"I see, you just have to install it in a way that it goes off when Peter leaves his room. You're quite clever."

"Maybe just desperate."

"To finally answer your question, yes, I'm still in contact with him. You'll have your early-warning system before Friday."

"Thanks a lot. You're a great help."

"To be honest, I always thought that what Marty really needed in order to loosen up a bit and to become almost human is a good seeing to. So I'm more than happy to help you to let him do exactly that."

"I suppose Martin wouldn't necessarily approve of your wording."

"Don't get prudish just because you're with him."

"Don't worry about that. I just hope that'll be enough to make Martin feel safe."

"If not, I'm happy to help to dig ditches around or install a draw bridge to your bedroom door."

Louisa threw her head back and laughed out loud. "As long as he doesn't start to put spring guns all around our bed!"

Joan chuckled and cheered at Louisa.

_To be continued…_


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

It was next Friday night. Louisa and Peter had picked Martin up at the station. Seeing his son clumsily running towards him had made Martin smile. By now he had enough confidence to pick his son up without being pushed by Louisa. Carrying his son he had kissed Louisa on the cheek. It still felt a bit weird to him to act this way, but he had observed other people during the last few weeks and realised that it was no unusual behaviour, even when it was for him. The family meal at Joan's had become a permanent fixture. It helped Martin to come home, to leave London behind.

Louisa had emailed him a couple of children's stories during the week, always encoded by their private password, so that he could practise his parts for the bedtime routine. He had accepted helping in reading the bedtime story regularly, as long as he didn't have to sing. Louisa promised, that she would sing to him sometimes when they were alone. He certainly liked that. The woman he loved was not only beautiful, intelligent, cheerful and compassionate, but also talented. Who could ask for more? The perfect mother, friend and lover. He could really call himself lucky.

Finally they had put Peter to bed and sat together on the couch, watching telly. Louisa had cuddled close to Martin, resting on his shoulder. She knew that this was the only way he could endure her rather average taste in TV series, but what exactly was wrong with "Men Behaving badly"? Well, she certainly didn't know. She just knew one thing – she was certainly glad that Martin wasn't anything like the two lads in this show, that's for sure! As soon as the program had ended, she switched the TV off. Martin sighed and kept on stroking her hair.

"You love doing that, don't you?"

"What?"

"Running your hands through my hair."

He nervously withdrew his hands. "Sorry."

She firmly grabbed his hand and guided it back to her head. "I'm not complaining. It's actually quite nice."

"Is it? You know that your hair is gorgeous, don't you?"

"Thanks, Martin. Thanks for saying so."

"I mean it. I always loved it. Also your pony-tail, the way it swings when you walk."

She lifted herself up, kneeling beside him, looking him straight in the eye. "Martin Ellingham, are you ill? You actually paid me a compliment!"

"Was anything wrong with that? It's just, Whitby told me to tell you more often what I feel. Sorry if I…" He was cut short by her kissing him soundly.

"Sssshhh, Martin. It was nice. You make tremendous progress. I'm not complaining." She kissed him again. Then she sat back, cross-legged, next to him.

"While we're at it, did you do your homework?"

"What?"

"Did you think about our relationship? The more steamy part."

Martin blushed and looked to the floor.

"Eeehhhemm. I kind of hoped you would forget about that."

"About what – my question or the steamy relationship?"

"Oh, Louisa. _Do_ we have to discuss this?"

"Don't you think it's important?"

"You saw what happened last week. I'm quite happy to be there for you, to be with you. I had nothing for far too long that I really value each minute we're together. I don't want to spoil it in going too far."

"You will spoil it if you draw away from me."

Martin straightened up, looking stiff onto the table.

"It's just, I'd like to know if you are happy with frequency, intensity and quality of our sex." Louisa continued.

Martin was completely tense now, swallowing hard and fixing a spot on the table.

"Well, what do you think? If you won't answer, maybe I'll start then. That will give you a couple of minutes to think about it."

"Well, with intensity I have no complaints, really. As the old jazz song says it '_I'm a one hour mama, so no one minute papa is the kind of man for me.'_ So I really appreciate that you take your time, building up slowly, giving me time to enjoy your body completely. So top marks for intensity." Martin was shifting uncomfortably, not knowing where to look at, and deeply red by now.

"Regarding quality I'm also quite happy. Maybe there are a couple of things we might try, finding out if it works for us or not. For the time being, though, I have no complaints. We can leave that for later, when you – hopefully – feel a bit more comfortable."

"Now the crucial point – the frequency. I can see that with your commuting we won't have a chance to have sex more than once a week. I understand that after a week of hard days work and coming down from London on Fridays, you're not quite in the mood. That leaves us with Saturday nights only. That alone is really borderline for me, but I can't see that we can change that anytime soon. That means also, that I won't be too happy if you withdraw exactly on that night, like last week. So, yes, I think there _is _room for improvement."

Martin was inwardly panicking by now. It was beyond him how she could sit there quietly and talk about those unspeakable things with complete calm.

"So, Martin, what do you think about our sex life?"

Martin gulped, and looked numb in front of him. Louisa laid back, arms crossed, demonstratively calm. It wasn't easy for her, too, to talk things through so calmly, but she also knew they had to get some agreement on this matter in order to have a sexually satisfactory, and therefore working, relationship. As Martin was definitely out of his comfort zone, she had to make it look completely normal to make him feel more at ease.

Martin suddenly tried to get up. "I think I've heard something upstairs. I'd better check on Peter."

Louisa put her hands on his thighs. "Stay put." Obediently Martin slumped back, still not looking toward Louisa.

"Oh, come on, look at me. Talk to me."

"Uuuhmm…I don't think it's a topic for conversation, do you?"

"Obviously I do. Martin, if we want to have a relationship in which both of us are happy for a long time, we have to find out how we both can be sexually satisfied. For doing so, we have to know how the other one feels about it. The only indicator I have so far is the intensity of your stare – ranging from an interested look to your eyes almost popping out. That only works if I try these things on my account. I have no clue what you dream about, if you have some ideas, maybe even some sexual fantasies that you would like to try. I may not think of it, but nevertheless be willing to try." She leant over to force him into eye contact and squeezed his hands. "I want you to be happy. To enjoy us being together. Is there anything you'd like me to try? For example, do you like me to wear special lingerie? Have you any preferences there?"

She waited for a response, but deeply blushed, he just tried to avoid her look, so Louisa continued. "I don't even know if you prefer our steamier nights or the slow gentle lovemaking."

Martin gulped, then forced himself to say: "When I can just be with you, then I'm happy. I…you can do…what…suits you."

"Do you think our frequency is satisfactory for you? Don't you want to have sex more often?"

"Louisa, really. I'm not good in discussing those things."

"You're darn good in doing them, so I can't see why it is more inappropriate to talk it through to make it work best." She patted his hand. "Although, I have to admit when we're at it, you're mostly in instinct mode." She lifted one hand to stroke through his hair, then pulling at it gently. "If I could just make your brain accept it, you're brilliant, prudish brain." She sighed, then leaned back on the sofa, focussing on him.

"Oh, yes. Actually, I promised you to think about measures for _safer sex_. First, I don't know if you noticed something new in Peter's room?"

"The mobile at the door you mean?"

"Exactly. It will go off whenever he opens the door. That should give us enough time to get decent."

Martin looked at her sceptically. "You really think _that_ will do?"

"No, that's just the back-up if we got carried away, to give us some freedom to do it whenever we like."

"The core of my strategy is different. Tomorrow at 6:30 Joan will come around the first thing she starts her deliveries."

"So what? One interruption more."

"No, just listen. She will pick up Peter to take him with her on the delivery round." Louisa leant against Martin's shoulder and started to stroke it. "And she needs about two to three hours for her deliveries. Does that give you any ideas?"

He looked at her. The way she looked at him simply made him melt away. He swallowed hard.

"I take that as a yes." Louisa purred, smiling about his obvious reaction.

"You mean…" he stammered.

"What I mean is that the house will be Peter-free for at least two hours, probably three. That's a comfortable timeframe, don't you think?"

"We will have the house completely to ourselves tomorrow morning?"

"Not just tomorrow. _Every_ Saturday." Louisa started to nibble at his ear lobe. "Given the new information, what do you think now about our sexual relationship?"

He breathed heavily, then looked towards Louisa, with lust filled eyes, as she contentedly realised. "Do you still think you want to lie next to me for the next 16 years never touching me? Don't you think that would be a horrible waste of…you know what?"

"Louisa!" He gasped with a husky voice.

"Shall I take it that you're at least considering making love to me? Or do you find me so appalling that you shudder at the thought of touching me?"

"Oh Louisa, you know that's rubbish."

"Is it? It is quite worrisome how easily you can dismiss the thought of making love to me. Makes a woman think. Especially when one isn't a spring chicken anymore."

"You're not old? What gives you that idea?"

"The date of birth."

"You're so beautiful and young and wonderful."

"And single and a mother."

"Oh." Martin uttered disappointed and withdrew slightly. Louisa sensed that, for a change, she had said something wrong.

"No Martin, what is it? What did I say that hurt you?"

Martin shook his head in defeat, but she cupped his head and forced him to look at her. "Martin Ellingham, what did I say to make you turn away?"

Martin looked into her eyes. She was right. _Not_ to talk had always caused problems, so better get it off your chest.

"So you're single?"

"Martin, I didn't mean that? But with this on-off-relationship it's sometimes difficult to decide where we stand, even when it looks definitely 'on' right now."

"Can I do something to make you feel that you are…well…_not_ single?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow morning. You can show me then, _big boy_." She laughed when she saw him blushing. "Oh, and by the way, I told Joan when she brings Peter back, that we can all have breakfast together."

Martin turned to her in sheer horror now. "No, you didn't!"

"I thought it was appropriate, after she'd taken Peter off our hands for a couple of hours."

"And what does she think we're doing in the meantime?" Martin asked alarmed.

"I just told her we need some _high quality time_ together."

"Doing what exactly? What does she think we're doing?"

"To use her words, she thinks I will fix your plumbing and strongly believes that it's about time."

Martin jumped up, pacing through the room, stopping in front of the French windows, hand clasped behind his back.

"And you know what, Martin? I kind of agree with her." Louisa said now defiantly.

Martin turned around quickly, having taken on a definite shade of red, glowering at her. "And you expect me to sit down at the breakfast table with her when she knows that we…we… Oh, damn!" He turned to face the windows again.

"Martin, the whole village knows that we have done it at least once. Peter is the living proof of that. Believe it or not, more than half of the adult population around the world keeps doing it. It is absolutely normal. Otherwise mankind would have been extinct long ago. We can argue if that would have been a great loss or not, I agree, but given the fact that it still exists it's safe to say that human beings had sex since the beginning of time."

Louisa came over to place her hands on his back. "Please, Martin, stop being so cagey about it. There's nothing wrong or dirty about it. It is quite alright. Or does it feel so wrong being with me?"

She watched him stare out of the window.

"Martin?" She asked, stroking his shoulder. After a while she could hear him breathe in deeply. Then, finally, he turned towards her.

"Sorry, Louisa. I'm just not used to it. I'm afraid it'll take some time to adjust." He kissed her briefly on the lips. "And no, it doesn't feel wrong being with you. Quite the contrary. That's what makes it so confusing."

"Maybe your feelings are just telling you that it is right. Will you try it tomorrow? Will you try it for me, please?"

"Let's try it. I just hope Aunty Joan won't make one of her remarks."

"Don't you worry. You know, I'm quite good in silencing nasty remarks from Ellinghams by now." Louisa teased him. "Maybe we had better get to bed now. The night will end early."

_To be continued…_


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Next morning at 6 am, the alarm clock ended a night of restful sleep. While Louisa was still a bit drowsy and remained in bed for a few minutes more, Martin got up and took a shower. Then he went over to Peter's room and started to wake him gently. Thankfully, Peter was an early riser, just like his father. So it wasn't much of a problem to make him get up. Peter was even looking forward to _helping _his favourite Aunty with her deliveries, as anything to do with the farm was fascinating to him, and he also liked spending time with Joan. All the better, as Louisa didn't feel bad at all at getting Peter out of the way for her own interest.

Louisa was up by now to help her little son in the bathroom. Martin wasn't comfortable at all with this, so Louisa didn't want to force him. While she prepared her offspring for the day, Martin prepared a small breakfast for Peter, so that he didn't have to go out on an empty stomach.

When Joan knocked on the door at 6.30 sharp, Peter was ready and filled up and looking forward to his new morning adventure. Louisa and Martin both saw him off, Louisa demonstratively putting her arm around Martin's waist. As soon as the front door was closed, Louisa reached up to Martin and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"We have the house all to ourselves now. I'll just freshen up." Then she ran upstairs and he could hear the bathroom door fall shut. He didn't feel comfortable that his aunt had a pretty good idea what they were going to be up to, but otherwise he had to admit that Louisa's plan worked well.

He had been worried that it would be bad parenting to send Peter away just for their own sake, but seeing Peter embrace the idea wholeheartedly, his conscience was silenced.

When he went up the stairs, the bathroom door was open again, so Louisa had already finished. He went in to shave.

Entering their bedroom took his breath away. Louisa was posing on the bed, in her full glory, with the morning sun shining upon her naked skin. Mouth agape he was nailed to the spot on the threshold. Louisa threw her head back and laughed. Goodness, how she could laugh! And how it always warmed his heart.

He often wondered what made the special appeal of Louisa's body. He had seen literally hundreds of naked bodies in his lifetime, bodies of all ages, bodies in all shapes, most of them shortly before he drove a blade into their flesh with scientific precision. Not _one_ of these bodies had remotely the same effect on him as seeing Louisa's shape. Even the slightest glimpse of her shoulder, revealed by some of her tops sliding down, made him hot. Seeing her fully exposed body simply took his breath away and stopped his brain from functioning properly.

Louisa saw Martin stare. On his private stare-scale it was definitely the mark of 'eyes popping out'. Seeing this expression on his face satisfied Louisa very much. It made all the efforts she had to put into their relationship worth while. This brilliant, restrained, prudish man who was completely lost when he saw her, made her feel very special. She looked over at him, gawping at her. Finally, she gently patted the bed in front of her. "Don't you want to join me?"

Mesmerised he stumbled forwards, stopping in front of the bed and looking down at her. Breathlessly he uttered "Louisa!". The way he burst out her name in this deep, husky voice of his, trembling with desire, made Louisa's body shiver with anticipation. Noticing how keen he was, and knowing that she was quite hot herself, maybe they even had time for a repeat performance, Louisa thought when she slowly dragged Martin down to join her in bed.

Two hours later, they still lay in bed, cuddled close, his large, strong hands working in her hair, her head resting on his chest. Louisa peeked upwards. "What do you think, does this arrangement work for you?"

"Well."

"Well, what?"

"It works well."

"Just well?" Louisa said in a mock angry tone, biting his chest slightly.

"Ouch! That hurts." Martin exclaimed, but tightening his grip around her shoulder, drawing her even closer.

"Shall I kiss it better?"

"You can try." Martin watched her kissing his chest. He knew one thing for sure. A day that started like this must be a good one. His fingertips trailed over her bare shoulders.

"I hate to say it, but isn't it time for us to prepare breakfast. Joan can't be much longer."

Louisa placed a forceful kiss on the middle of his chest, then slapped it slightly. "Right you are." Steadying herself on his shoulders, she lifted herself up and got out of bed. Martin, however, just rolled onto his side. Louisa started to dress, then looked sideways.

"Hey, lazy bone, get out of bed!"

"Just a minute. The view is so nice."

Louisa smiled at him and slowed her dressing down, sensually rolling up her stockings. She grabbed three different outfits, and then held them in front of her.

"What would you prefer?" She changed the three different sets in front of her. "What do you like best?"

"I like your current outfit best."

Louisa dropped the clothes she was holding, and just in stockings posed before Martin. "You suggest I welcome Joan like this?"

"Eeeehhhm…better not. Weather's good, we might take a walk today – the jeans, maybe?"

Louisa picked up her jeans and a jumper, bending forward so that Martin could have a good look at her bum. He tried to reach over, but then stopped himself from touching it. Maybe he had embarrassed Louisa enough for one morning. Then again, she seemed to be quite at ease and she looked so lovely. Before he could make a final decision, Louisa had already put on her underwear and fumbled with the bra. She decided if she had such a keen audience, he could do something for the privilege, so she came over to Martin.

"You were such an expert last week at undoing this, maybe you can close the clasp for me?"

Martin lifted himself up and with unsteady hands fixed her bra. Louisa turned around and gave him a quick kiss. Then she stepped into her jeans and pulled the jumper over her head. She posed again.

"How do I look?"

"Nice."

"Well, coming from you, I take this as a compliment, and now off to prepare breakfast."

Louisa left the bedroom, and the moment she had passed the door, she heard Martin getting up.

Martin had waited until Louisa had left the room before getting out of the bed. Having the bedroom to himself now he got up and bent down to pick up his boxers. Lifting his head, he saw Louisa leaning against the door frame, staring at him. Quickly he turned around, nervously grabbing his underwear and trying to put them on as quickly as possible, hopping helplessly in his clumsy attempt to speed things up.

Louisa leant in the door calmly, amused about his embarrassment. Seeing him turning away, she told him: "Oh Martin, there is nothing to see that I haven't seen already. Or touched. Or caressed. You had a good look to start the day, so let me have my share, too."

Still trying to get into his shorts without falling down, Martin slowly turned around. In a way, she was right, but somehow it was definitely something different when lying in bed or getting ready to do so than in the cold light of the morning. Then again, he had stared at her, so it was just fair, in a way, that she had the same right. Martin breathed in deeply before straightening up and turning around, letting her have a look at him.

"That's better." Louisa lauded contently. "I have to admit, you even look good in daylight. Nice features. You're not a bad catch, I have to admit."

"Louisa, please, don't joke about it."

"No joking. Nice bum, as I admired before, also good legs, not to talk of the main attraction. Is your big boy always under pressure, I wonder?"

"Louisa! Please!"

"Well, it just makes me wonder."

Shyly he put his boxers over her item of interest. He had never been much for carnal desires, but being with Louisa had this strange effect on him. He was a bit embarrassed about it himself. Louisa should think by no means that he was only interested in her to fulfil his desires, that he wanted to be with her for sexual purposes. It wasn't only that, really. He wanted to care for her, be there for her, making her happy, support her as well as he could. Nevertheless, she just had to look at him in a certain way, touch him gently or tease him in this provocative way of hers and he couldn't help but to react. The male body surely was a strange thing. He put on his suit, but when he took his tie Louisa stopped him.

"Oh no! Not today. It's the weekend, you're not down on business. So leave that."

"But I thought with this nice weather we might go out later."

"You're perfectly dressed for a stroll along the cliffs the way that you are. No need for a tie or a jacket just to breathe in the Cornish air."

"I never go out without my tie."

"You did at the holiday cottage."

"That was different. It wasn't very likely that we could run into anyone. Here it's different. It's highly probable that we'll see someone, and people who know me, too."

"Martin Ellingham!" Louisa wanted to give him a lecture on dressing codes in fishing villages, when her mobile beeped, indicating an incoming SMS. She stopped to look at the display. "Oh, Joan and Peter will be here in about 15 minutes. Better hurry up."

Louisa rushed downstairs. Martin quickly tied his tie and grabbed his coat, then rushed downstairs himself.

When he joined Louisa in the kitchen, she sighed. Maybe she just should be glad that at least he wore his casual outfits indoors for her. It was beyond her why he felt so inappropriately dressed without that string around his neck.

Together they quickly had laid out the table for the breakfast, making coffee and tea, boiling some eggs. Not before long, there was a knock on the door. When Louisa opened the door, Peter immediately started to chatter, excited about the morning tour with Aunty Joan. Joan shoved Peter gently inside, who was still babbling. With a sigh, Joan sat down at the table.

"Oh, coffee, great. Breakfast looks nice, too. Exactly the right thing for the working, isn't it Peter?"

Louisa managed to manoeuvre her son towards the breakfast table, while he was still excitedly talking about the encounters with the villagers. Louisa listened intently, sometimes laughing. Martin served the hot breweries before sitting down himself.

Joan watched the pair in front of her. She still could hardly believe her nephew being able to satisfy a woman like Louisa, but what she saw proved her wrong. Louisa was smiling blissfully, often looking over to Martin, trying to catch his eye. Marty was a bit nervous, looking embarrassed and tried to avoid any eye-contact with Joan. He had this shifty look he had had as a child when he had done something stupid and didn't want anyone to know.

However, Joan also noticed that whenever Louisa asked him to pass her something, he touched her hand ever so gently.

Joan realised that Martin didn't feel comfortable about her knowing what they had been up to, and by the little gestures between them, they must have had a good time. As Joan could see for herself how they had spent the morning, she decided not to embarrass Martin any further, but filled Louisa in with all the news – Martin would say gossip – she had gathered on her delivery round.

Breakfast was finished, and the four of them still sat around the table. Suddenly Peter looked serious and after shifting uncomfortably on the chair, he asked his mother: "Mummy?"

"Yes, Peter." She stroked his head.

"Uuuhhmm. It's just…ehhh…can I join Aunty Joan next week, too?" He finally managed to ask. Then quickly added. "Aunty said it's OK with her, but I have to ask you. So, pleeaaase, Mummy!"

Louisa smiled over at Martin. Her plan had worked better than she had dared to hope. Now her son was practically pleading to be got out of the way. Well, this time it shouldn't be too difficult to give in to his wishes.

"Well, Peter, if you liked it so much and Joan is happy to have you – sure you can. What do you say Martin?"

"Fine. That's fine." Martin uttered, slightly blushing.

"Ohhh Mummy! Thanks!" Peter rushed to his Mummy to get a hug. Louisa lifted her son up, sat him on her lap and cuddled him. Then Peter looked over to Martin. "Eeehhh, Daddy – thanks, too."

"Fine. That's fine." Martin repeated automatically.

So, Martin and Louisa settled into a routine. Whenever possible, Martin came down by train on Fridays, to be picked up by Joan or Louisa. Sometimes Peter was at the station, too. Other times he waited at Joan's farm, where the four of them would have a family meal together.

Martin grew more confident in getting along with Peter, but still didn't have any ideas what to do with his son on his own, still trusting Louisa's guidance.

Louisa was quite happy how the relationship had developed. The 'Sleeping Arrangements' she had worked out were quite successful, providing a good start to the weekend on Saturday mornings, with the tension between them on Friday nights also adding to her pleasure. She acknowledged that Martin really tried hard to get a grip on fatherhood, but also sensed that it didn't come naturally to him quite yet. She still hoped that, with time, he would actually come to enjoy the time with his son more.

In London, Martin still met Whitby regularly. He had met Martin in the canteen after the first 'Peter-free' Saturday and had sensed that Ellingham wanted to talk. Martin never had anyone to talk to about his feelings and thoughts, and honestly needed a non-biased opinion on some matters where he and Louisa disagreed. Martin had no friends and had learned to trust Whitby and his discretion completely. Whitby also had learned to appreciate Martin and was impressed by the dedication and work he had put into his relationship. He had also found out that conversations with Martin were, well, maybe not _fun_, but very enlightening. So he invited Martin to have dinner at his house, not as a patient, but a friend. After having dinner with Whitby and his wife, the two men would withdraw into Whitby's study for a proper talk.

_To be continued…_


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

It was on a Saturday afternoon in early October. One of the last warm days of the year. Martin had only arrived in the morning for his regular weekend visits, as he hadn't had the time to head down on Friday as usual. When Louisa collected him from the train, he looked tense. When he got into her car, he said: "Sorry, Louisa. Really bad week. I'm not quite in the mood."

"In the mood? For what?"

"Everything."

"That bad."

"Worse."

Actually, he had to spend Friday operating, much to his disapproval since he was quite eager to finish around noon since he was meeting Louisa on a regular basis. However, this procedure really couldn't be postponed. He spent hours, just for the patient to die under his hands. He couldn't help wondering if he could have done more. And if not – it had been a complete waste of time.

"Know what, I'll call Joan to keep Peter a bit longer, and we'll go for a long quiet walk along the cliffs. That will help you to clear your head."

"Mmmh." Martin wasn't so sure.

Louisa however went ahead with it, and soon afterwards they found themselves along those beautiful shores. After a while Louisa stopped.

"I know what's going to help you relax. I'll give you a nice massage."

"Here?" Martin was shocked.

"Don't worry, I don't want to strip you bare. Just where I can reach when you undo your first two shirt buttons. That's not too much to ask? Is it?"

Martin grunted unintelligibly.

"OK, that's nice." Louisa just pretended that he agreed. She thought it was a good idea. So she sat down against a tree, just overlooking the beautiful Cornish coast.

"Come on Martin, sit down and lean against me."

"What? I'm too heavy for you." He strongly resisted, but Louisa had grabbed him by the hand and dragged him down.

"That's quite alright. Relax!"

Reluctantly he got down in front of her, barely touching her at all. She got her hands around his shoulder and pulled him towards her.

"Loui…"

"Sssh. Everything's just fine. Relax." She whispered as her mouth was by now almost touching his ear. Slowly she started to massage him, the neck, around the temples, his head, then she slipped her hands under his shirt and worked on his shoulders. A loud sigh escaped Martin's mouth.

"Better?"

"You're quite incredible. But I'm too…"

"No, it's alright."

Now Martin turned around to face her. He looked deep into her eyes. For a very long time.

"What, Martin?" She couldn't stand his look. It was too intense.

"Do you know what you do to my soul?"

She just kissed him lightly on his cheek as response. Then she took his head and placed it in her lap. She started to stroke his hair. She looked absentmindedly over the sea, enjoying the last few sunbeams of autumn. He looked up at her. They rested there for quite some time.

"Louisa, I have been thinking…"

"Mmmh?"

"These weekend arrangements, do you really think they work for us?"

Louisa was a bit disappointed. Just right now, she thought life was perfect.

"All this commuting – it's too stressful for you, is it? But you don't want me and Pete coming down to London to visit you. We could share the ordeal that way."

"No. London's not a good place. I'd rather be here." She still didn't know that he hadn't organised decent accommodation. He was saving his money for a far better use.

"So how often do you think you would come down, then? Every fortnight? Once a month?"

Louisa was disappointed, but when these journeys were wearing Martin out, there was no point in going on like this. No matter, how much she would have liked it.

"Actually, Louisa, I thought…" he looked at her probingly. Was it the right time to ask? _Was_ there a right time. He took a deep breath. Louisa was worried by that time. Had he lost interest?

"Well, I…what would you think…would it be OK for you…" Martin was struggling.

"What Martin, would what be OK for me? Just spill it."

A sigh. "…if I would try to find something down here?"

"Find what?"

"A position. They are usually desperate to find GPs for the more remote areas."

"But you're a surgeon!"

"I'm both, if you remember."

Louisa couldn't believe it and stared at him in astonishment. He sat up and looked at her directly. He was a bit disappointed.

"So you don't think it's a good idea?"

"But you're head of department at the Imperial?"

"Don't worry, there are hundreds of smart arses who would jump at the opportunity to replace me."

"But your patients?"

"So you are more worried about my patients than about me?" He stated with disappointment.

"No, Martin, that's not what I mean. But you're so bloody good at your job. They are so lucky that they are operated on by you."

"The man yesterday wasn't." Louisa looked over to him. So that's what it was all about?

"You couldn't help him?" Martin just looked silently at her and gulped. Louisa didn't push him to answer. After a while Martin's eyes wandered over the sea. Not looking into her direction, he talked to Louisa.

"I can't stop wondering, yesterday, if I hadn't felt the urge to come down here, if I hadn't been in a bad mood because I had to postpone my journey down here, maybe I could have saved him."

"Martin, if you couldn't, no one could. Surely you're not the one to desert your patients because of one setback? Think of all the others you have saved."

He looked back to her. Quietly he took both her hands in his.

"It's not just that. I've been thinking about it for quite some time. I appreciate that you accept me being down here each week and value that."

"It's a pleasure to have you."

"Louisa, please don't interrupt." Louisa knew now that he had something serious on his mind. If he had to take his time to work his speech out, he didn't like to be interrupted.

"In fact, it is the only thing that keeps me going throughout the whole week. Monday morning my whole thinking is fixed on Friday afternoon, when I can board the train to Truro. The journey always seems like ages, because I long to be with you and Peter. As soon as the station comes into sight I stare out of the window, if I can spot any of you. When you come towards me on the platform, kissing me lightly, I come alive again. It's even better when Peter is with you, and he runs towards me. I still don't know why he is so eager to come to me. I suppose you've instructed him." Louisa just shook her head in silent protest. Why couldn't he just accept that Pete loved him to be around? "Either way, I love it when I can pick him up and just hold him. Also when Aunty Joan picks me up, and I know I will be with you soon, and she's filling me in with everything Peter had done during the week."

"But I can't enjoy this moment without any pain. It is a bit like how I felt when I visited Aunty Joan in my holidays as a boy. I needed these visits to have something to look forward to and I really loved spending my time with her. But there was always the painful certainty that I knew the exact date when I had to go back. That it was just borrowed time. It is not my life. It is a holiday I take _from_ my life. It doesn't feel as I belong here. It feels as if I am tolerated. A visitor that will soon be out of the way and everyone continues with their lives. Louisa, I want to belong somewhere."

Louisa had to fight hard to hold back the tears she felt welling up within her, but she knew it wouldn't be helpful if she showed them. She had to put on a brave face – for him. She also felt bad that she always thought this arrangement was just perfect, so that he could have his good job, which she thought he deserved, and have quite close contact to the family, as close as it was possible under these circumstances. She could cope with everyday life just fine, with the help of Joan, and given the fact that they would just see each other at the end of a stressful day during the week, she didn't think it was worth giving up such a high-class job. She was proud that he was in a position that he deserved.

Martin noticed a sad expression on Louisa's face, and of course misinterpreted it.

"Louisa, I understand if you don't want to -I mean I don't presume that we - I'm not suggesting-" He wished very much to move in with her, but didn't want to push her, but could hardly bring himself in saying that he _did not_ want to share, however, he thought it was the decent thing to do. He took a deep breath. "I don't say that we should move in together." He shot these words towards her at a speed very uncommon for him. "I would be happy just to be around, to see you during the day – you and Peter."

"'_The only thing I think about, every day, is just catching a glimpse of you.'_" She quoted. "Are we back at that stage. I hoped we had moved forward since then." He looked at her, puzzled.

"What do you mean? What _are_ you talking about?"

"Your exact words. When I tried to get you drunk. To see the _real _you. A failed attempt, I admit."

"You didn't try to, you bloody well succeeded."

"But only in the first part of my plan. However, I thought we had made some progress in the meantime. I thought we agreed to ask each other when we want something and don't assume the answer. It had not worked very well before. Remember?"

Martin took a deep breath. She had prompted him to ask her, so he had to do it. He cleared his throat. He tightened his grip on her hands. He had to force himself to look into her eyes.

"Louisa. I never had a home in my life. I never had a place where I belonged to. I don't know what _home_ really means. The only time I had to share accommodation with others was in boarding school. And it was hell. I don't know if it _is _possible to live with me every day, but for the first time in my life, I long to have a home. I _want_ to live with you and Peter. I want to find out how it is to have a family. To _be _a family. I know it is a lot to ask of you, to take the risk to try to find out if I am _capable_ of being part of a family, but I long for a place to come home to, _every_ day, not just for occasional visits. Would you be prepared to take that risk. Louisa, would you move in together with me?"

Louisa was deeply touched. He really was someone special. All other men she had ever known had assumed it was quite natural to move in together after a certain time. Martin's long history of loneliness and rejection made him pretty much aware that it was a big step.

"Martin. I would very much like to live with you. 24/7. I just wonder if you wouldn't get bored down here. Wouldn't you miss your job?"

"Goodness, no!"

"But it must be quite satisfactory for you to be in the top league again? I keep checking the internet for news about you. You've made yourself a name. You get lots of praise."

"The only things I get are bodies on an operating table."

"Could you really be happy being a GP again?"

"Louisa, my job was never a source of happiness for me. I can't get satisfaction from it. I just do what has to be done, what I am paid for, what everyone would do in the same position. Don't know what all the fuss is about. _You_ are the one who makes a difference in my life. You and Peter. I'm tired in hearing from Joan and you what he had done during the week. I want to be there and see it myself."

Louisa smiled. And he thought he was rotten father material.

"If you're sure. I just want to make clear that I don't expect that from you. You should not feel that you are sacrificing your job, that we are holding you back."

"I assure you, being a surgeon is just as annoying as being a GP. So if you agree, I start re-training and job hunting immediately?"

"If that is what you want, then I'm very happy. By the way, I might be able to help." Martin looked at her questioningly. "I'm still in the panel committee. I never mentioned it to you, as it was of no importance until now, but Portwenn is very unhappy about your successor. If I mentioned that you might be interested in your old job, they would probably jump at the opportunity and find a way to get rid of our current doc."

Martin was staring in disbelief. "You are kidding me. That is not funny, Louisa."

"No, Martin, it isn't funny, as it isn't a joke to start off with. In comparison to our recent choice, you seem to be the patron saint of GPs. People talk a lot about you now."

"I bet. In case you hadn't noticed, they always have."

"No Martin, I'm serious. They would swap GPs without hesitation if they could have you back. The current doc is a lazy bugger – never can be bothered after hours. If it doesn't sound bad, get an appointment, if it is serious, call the ambulance, if you don't like it, go to Wadebridge or drop dead. Also, even the daftest villager noticed that he shows negligence in his work, to say the least. To top it all, he likes to get fresh with his female patients."

Martin was alarmed. "Louisa, he hasn't – you were not – I..I.:"

"Don't get excited, Martin. No he hasn't, not with me. As I was still registered in Truro when he started, I heard the rumours about him before I could return to Portwenn surgery. So I got myself transferred to Wadebridge." Martin sighed with relief. He knew these kinds of cheeky buggers all too well and dreaded the thought that his Louisa…

"Martin, all that I'm saying is, that the whole of Portwenn would love to have you back. At least I can try."

"There's just one problem."

"What's that, Martin?" Louisa was a bit disappointed. She feared that this life together, she already pictured in her head, might still fall apart.

"You're place. There is no room for me, is there?"

"We can always squeeze you in." she smiled gently.

"No, that's no good. Don't take it the wrong way, but could you imagine moving with me into a proper place, a house of our own, of reasonable size? When Peter gets bigger, the spare room he's in now won't be satisfactory anymore. And I will ruin my back if I have to duck all the time not to hit the beams and doorframes."

"Martin, houses are quite pricey in Portwenn and I don't think there's anything available in the centre right now. And, honestly, I couldn't afford it."

"I know you don't like me mentioning money, but I've been saving for this. My job provides far more than I need for my expenses. I also have some reserves from previous investments and given the fact that you hardly had cashed in any of the cheques I sent you – to which you were legally entitled by the way, and are therefore far from charity, in case you feel that way - I'd say we have quite a sum to invest. As for being in the centre of Portwenn, if you insist, we can wait until something becomes available, but please at least consider the alternative of something just out of the village, with nice views, maybe. A garden, possibly. Don't you think that part of our problems was that we were always under supervision. At least it was one of my problems. Don't answer now, please. Just think about it. Next weekend, we can decide if we want to go house-hunting. Right?"

"I'll do that. I'll think about it."

"It is settled then?" Martin beamed at her, as far as he could beam. "We'll have a home together."

"Yes Martin, we'll give it a go. And Martin – I love you."

When Louisa leant in for a gentle kiss, London was so far away. Martin was looking forward to leaving it for good. When they broke apart, Martin said: "As nice at this is – can't we go to Joan's place and pick Peter up."

Louisa was just too happy to comply and Martin's mood was definitely enlightened for the rest of his stay.

_To be continued…_


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

When Martin visited the next week, his little son ran towards him on the platform. He smiled and picked him up. He gave Louisa a peck on the cheek and the three of them headed towards White Rose Cottage. Martin waited for Louisa to bring up the topic they had discussed the week before. Louisa had talked with Joan about it, as it had become her habit with everything concerning Martin. Her comment had only been: "Good. It's time he takes up some responsibility."

During the whole day she could see Martin looking over to her, obviously trying to figure out what her decision would be. Here and there he dropped a little hint, tempting her to catch up on the clue and bring the conversation around to this important topic. It also seemed to Louisa, that he bowed more than necessary to avoid hitting his head. Louisa had some fun leaving him in limbo. If he didn't have the courage to re-address that subject, it just served him right.

After supper on Saturday she started a conversation.

"You know Colonel Gilbert Spencer, don't you?"

"Oh sure, I remember him and his wife. Uuuhhm." Very unpleasant memories of his early days in Portwenn came to his mind. "Why do you ask?"

"He's not getting any younger, you know."

"That would be biologically impossible."

"I just met him at the greengrocers and he was complaining a lot about his backache."

"Thankfully I'm not responsible for that yet. He has to see the current doctor. I hope you told him that?"

"Actually, we didn't talk about his medical treatment."

"Good."

"We were talking about the maintenance work he has to do at his house."

"I hope you haven't agreed that _we_ should do the work?" Martin was worried that Louisa's compassionate nature had won over.

"Maybe we should."

"Oh, no! I can think of nicer ways to spend my time."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I really had hoped I had found the ideal solution for all of us."

"Why should working as a handyman for the Spencers be good?"

"Martin, you're really extraordinarily thick-witted today."

"Thanks very much."

"You have no clue what I'm talking about."

"I just know that I certainly won't waste my time in doing the dirty work for others. Sorry if I offend you."

"What if it wouldn't be for others?"

"But you just said, that the Spencers…"

"Yes, Martin, that they are struggling to maintain their big house and especially the garden. Needs younger people to run a house that size. Maybe a young family?"

"Young families usually haven't got the money to finance a house that size."

"Unless of course one of them has a highly paid job. A surgeon could do it, don't you think?" Louisa asked innocently.

Martin just thought for a moment. "Yes, we are ridiculously well paid, but why should a surgeon buy…" He stopped, looking sceptically over to Louisa.

"Finally you get it! I thought I would have to spell it out for you." She laughed.

"You mean…?"

"Why not? Have you ever been there?"

"I can't discuss patients."

"So you have. Did you like it?"

"Didn't pay much attention. I had other things on my mind."

"Maybe we can stop at their place tomorrow to have a look around. I just had a quick glance. It is a comfortable size. A great master with en-suite, overlooking the sea. Nice views. Peter could have a good-sized room, also en-suite. Might suit him when he grows older. Additionally, there are two other bedrooms. Might come in handy some time." Martin looked alarmed.

"You don't mean you want another.."

"No, I wasn't thinking of that. I'm sorry that the mere thought causes you so much horror. I thought about a time when Joan might not be able to run her farm any longer. She could move in. So relax."

Martin did relax. "That would be good. I'm worried about her working too hard anyhow."

"Downstairs there's a nice dining area, overlooking the sea, a reasonably sized kitchen, a study, a comfortably sized lounge. One of us can turn one of the upstairs bedrooms into a study, so that both of us have some space to work. The garden is a bit steep, and therefore not very easy to maintain, but the location is lovely. It's also just a short drive from the village. What do you say?"

"It won't cost anything to have a look, I suppose."

"I told them we would probably come tomorrow and just call them if we can't. They would be glad if we could settle the deal among ourselves without wasting money on an estate agent. It would save them money and trouble, and we might have a house with lots of privacy."

Martin thought about it. The idea appealed to him, but he wasn't sure if it was the right place for Louisa.

"Are you sure you also want this?"

"Looks perfect to me."

"It's quite a drive to the village."

"Just a couple of miles, really."

"I would appreciate the distance to the village very much, but is that what you want?"

She came over to sit next to him, to cuddle close. "Sure it's what I want. Otherwise I wouldn't have suggested it, but your concern is quite sweet, actually."

"Won't you feel…lonely?"

"I hope you won't let me feel that way. Besides, I have thought about that. I have to admit, I only agree to move there under certain conditions."

"Ooooh, great." Martin sighed.

"Just listen to what they are before you protest." Louisa was certainly not happy with his response. "I actually think they're quite modest."

"OK, tell me."

"I suppose you will not be very eager to have guests around the house, am I right?"

"If I can avoid it, no."

"Look. I need some company now and then. I know you despise gossip, but believe it or not, it holds a village together." Martin grunted his disapproval. Louisa ignored that. "Besides, I actually quite enjoy it. Therefore, you have to accept that I go out one evening of the week. I don't want any lectures when I come home, even when I'm a bit tipsy. I certainly don't want any jealousy either when I meet up with male colleagues or friends. I expect you to trust me. Understood?"

"Right?"

"Furthermore, I thought about the birthdays."

"Oh no!"

"Let me finish please. You can complain when you actually know what about."

"Sorry."

"I usually celebrate my birthday with my friends and colleagues."

"I was afraid you would."

"Shush! I always did that and it wouldn't be polite to change that just because you're back in my life."

"Thanks very much." Martin said sarcastically.

"If you don't shut up I will throw a huge party inviting whole of Portwenn, including the giggling girls and all the dogs I can round up!" Martin looked shocked, but kept silent.

"What I really want to suggest is, that I can celebrate my actual birthday just with the family..:" Martin sighed relieved."…and then on the following weekend I can celebrate with my friends and colleagues in the pub. You are invited to join me, but I won't insist. I just warn you that this night will most certainly be a long one and I don't intend to be sober when I come home. However, that's the compromise I offer."

"I think I can live with that. As long as you don't change your mind about me joining you at your village party?"

"I'm quite happy with you baby-sitting. Then there's your birthday…"

"I don't have a birthday."

"Everyone has."

"What I mean is that I don't pay any attention to it."

"But I will."

"Oh no!" Martin groaned. "I don't think there is anything to celebrate about my parents throwing me into this world."

"Well, I for one am glad that they did. I would have missed you if they didn't."

"You wouldn't. You couldn't know."

"But now that I know you I know that I would have missed you. Besides, I insist that every one in this family has his special day, like it or not. I suppose you don't want to invite anyone, or do you?"

"Certainly not, as it will not be celebrated!"

"Yes, it will! Don't get the impression I ask for your approval. I will also ask Joan to come over, but that will be all and so that's pretty straightforward, too." Martin sighed, but knew he had to give in. When she was so adamant, then there was no use in arguing.

"Last comes the tricky bit." Louisa continued. "I think I've been very considerate up until now, but now comes the compromise that you have to make." Martin straightened up, sitting at the edge of the sofa, listening carefully. He knew already that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear. "I can live with our birthdays being just a family affair. Peter's birthday is a different thing, though. If he wants to invite other children over for his birthday – and I will encourage him as much as I can, I warn you there – he must have the freedom to do so. I don't want him to become a recluse. He is shy and timid, so he needs the company of other children from early on to get used to it. To develop his social skills. When he invites others for his birthday, I _expect_ you – I don't ask – to be there _and_ be civil! I know it won't be easy for you. Children's birthdays are the nightmare of all parents. Nevertheless, you _won't_ escape to your study and you _won't_ misbehave. Is that crystal clear? I really have to ask that of you. At any other day of the year, when Peter wants to invite someone over, I just expect you to accept that. I won't mind if you hide in your study until the invasion is over. Only on Peter's birthday you have to endure the whole treatment, I'm afraid."

Martin cringed inwardly, but thinking about it he must admit that her demands were quite modest and that she had tried to accommodate his needs as much as possible.

Louisa watched Martin silently contemplating. Finally she was desperate to know his opinion, as he had hardly reacted yet. "Martin, is that alright with you?"

"Actually, Louisa, I thank you for considering my need for privacy. What you ask should be manageable, and I just hope that I survive this one horrid day of the year. Thankfully it's in the summer, so if we're lucky Peter might just play with his guests in the garden. In a couple of years time he might not want to celebrate with us at all. So maybe we're just talking about a dozen days or so." Louisa surely didn't need any reminder that the valuable time when Peter was still very close and needed them, would pass away rather quickly. She still couldn't get used to Martin talking about it so matter-of-factly.

"Martin, it almost sounds as if you can hardly wait for Peter to move out?"

"No! That's not what I meant, but realistically, when you count…I mean…" Martin didn't know what to answer. He was sure that whatever he might say could be used against him. So he quickly tried to change the subject. "Eeeehm…as you gave me your conditions, can I request two things."

"Sure. Fire away."

"First, please allow me to pay for professional help for the garden. I find the thought of digging in the earth quite disgusting." Louisa smiled. If that's all he asked, then it would be easy sailing.

"Second – NO PETS! Whatever Peter might want. I will not give in. I won't have any of those parasite-bearing beasts around the house!"

"Actually, I think it's a pity as Peter would really profit from the responsibility he would learn in having pets. However, you gave in so nicely to my demands, I simply can't refuse anything to you now. So _if_ we like the house, then everything's settled?"

"Yes, finally settled."

Louisa rested her head against his shoulder. After a while, she said. "One more thing."

"Isn't there always." Martin sighed.

"No Martin, there isn't _always_, and it's nothing that I demand or expect. Just something that would make me happy, that's all."

"Right."

"Do you still remember the concert we went to together, with Holly's quartet?"

"Not an easy day to forget. After all, it was our first split-up."

"No, I mean the actual concert. I know you hate going to events, but I had the impression the concert itself wasn't the problem, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, sitting on the blanket under the trees wasn't the problem. You felt uncomfortable during the break, with all that chit-chat and finger food. I think that was a bit tough for you, but the concert itself was not too bad, was it?"

"No, the concert itself was alright. Unfortunately you can't have it without the break.

"Actually, I really loved going out with you. Dressing up for you, seeing your admiring look, being with you, a couple for all the world to see. Maybe I like showing you off, showing everyone what a good catch I have made."

Martin grunted. "It's none of their business, is it?"

"You are right, nevertheless, it feels nice being out with you. I know that you will never thoroughly enjoy it, that's why I don't expect you to take me out."

"Good."

"But if you really want to please me, maybe you can consider us going out twice a year or so. I leave it to you where to go to, if you like, so that you can chose something you feel comfortable with. I don't expect you to queue for the drinks, as I can handle the crowd in front of the catering far better than you. So I would provide the refreshments, and we can have them somewhere quiet. I don't expect you to be involved in small talk or exchange any niceties. I just expect you to keep your mouth shut before you say something rude."

"It really would make me _very _happy."

"Let's see. I promise to consider that." Martin answered. He was sure he would survive two or three nights like the concert. If he could chose, maybe he could get some open air event, where not too many people would be cramped into small rooms. It was worth considering if it meant so much to Louisa.

_To be continued…_


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Next day, Louisa and Martin went over to the Spencers to have a look at their house. Peter had been '_parked_' at Joan's farm. Martin was quite happy about the distance to the village. A nosy villager passing by accidentally was not very likely. The house was well maintained, no major work to be done, and it should work for the three of them.

Martin blushed a bit seeing the master bedroom, with beautiful views over the Cornish coastline, where no one could possibly peek into, and imagining how he and Louisa… He imagined a grey November morning, a grey sky over a windswept sea, and the two of them in this cosy bedroom, a fire burning in the fireplace and having their own waves washing over them. As the Spencers were busy explaining the advantages of this property, Martin touched Louisa's hand lightly. She gave his a quick squeeze and beamed up at him. The way they looked at each other sealed it – they both could imagine sleeping in this room.

Further down the hallway was a perfectly sized en-suite room for Peter, which would solve the postponed problem of where to put Peter when he grew older – and bigger – once and for all. That room would even serve him well into early adulthood, if he chose. The other spare room Martin declared would make a perfect study for him. He could do the administrative work at home then instead of sitting alone in his surgery. Louisa liked the thought. At least Martin thought about spending as much time as possible at their home. He was not looking for excuses to keep away.

Louisa was really taken with the kitchen – diner. It was the ideal place to spend some time together as a family. Martin and Louisa could easily work together without getting into each others way, and there was a comfortable large space where the whole family could gather for meals. Even Peter might be able to help with small cooking tasks. Cooking could become an activity where the whole family could work together.

There were two reception rooms that would be just fine if Louisa wanted to have guests, and Martin would have the option to withdraw into the study or into the second reception room. In a couple of years time it would also allow Peter to be able to invite friends around without his parents hanging about.

The outside was no disappointment either. Martin's Lexus could actually be parked in a garage. The garden was of a reasonable size, without being too demanding in maintenance. It overlooked the coast nicely. Martin remembered the evenings at the holiday cottage where he and Louisa had spent their evenings on the patio, overlooking the sea and just cuddling close. This property was far enough from anyone that he really looked forward in cultivating this habit.

He had realised from the first days in Portwenn, come to think of it even during the holidays at Joan's farm, that looking over the sea was somehow peaceful to his soul. This effect was multiplied by Louisa's presence. So, a garden overlooking the sea might be a real benefit to quality of life.

After the house tour, the four of them sat together to talk business. The Spencers asked for a reasonable price, and already had the prospect of a smaller property close to St. Austell with public transportation being at hand to take them into town without any difficulties. The way it looked, the whole transaction could be finished by the end of the year.

Louisa drove with Martin back to the farm.

"Martin, what do you think?"

"Ample space, well maintained, price reasonable as far as I can see."

"I don't want a list, I mean do you like it? Can you imagine us living there?"

"Can you?"

"OK, forget it." Louisa said a bit fed up.

Martin realised that somehow he had said something wrong again. He looked cautiously over to Louisa.

"Eeehmmm…I…"

"Forget it, just forget it. I thought it would be a good idea."

"So you could…"

"Yes, Martin – why not?"

"Why are you so cross?"

"I'm not – _cross_."

"You seem cross."

"It's just-" Louisa sighed.

"Honestly, I don't know. Did I say something wrong?"

"My fault probably."

"What? Please, Louisa, don't be like this. At least tell me what I have done."

"I think I just got my expectations running wild. If you didn't like it, I certainly don't know how we're going to be able to find something soon."

"Who said I didn't like it?"

"But you can't imagine us living there."

"I didn't say that?"

"But…"

"I just wanted to know your opinion, so that I don't put my foot in it. Seems as though it didn't work."

"Martin, if I ask your opinion, you're usually not shy about giving it to me. So if you're cagey, then it's mostly for a good reason." Louisa breathed in deeply. "Right, let's start again. Can you imagine us living there? – And you better answer honestly this time, Martin Ellingham!"

"All in all, I think it might work. Isn't it too far from the village centre for you?"

"I'll give my opinion later. It's your turn."

"Seems well maintained. I haven't seen any cause for worry or major repair. Of course it might be useful to have it surveyed."

"You're still not telling me – can you imagine us sitting in the lounge, preparing meals together in the kitchen, cuddling close in the bedroom, sitting in the garden?"

"These practical issues are important!"

"'Cause they are, if you intend to buy it. It only makes sense to buy it if you want to live there." They passed a little parking place. Louisa stopped. "Martin, all I want to know is if you could imagine being happy there. When you touched my hand – what was that about?"

Martin blushed a bit and took a deep breath. "I just noted that no one could possibly peek into the windows and they had marvellous views."

"The view was gorgeous, wasn't it? I could imagine us there, the bright sun of a lovely summer day shining in."

"I actually imagined some stormy November morning…"

Louisa nodded. "Might be even better, you're right. The unfriendly world and we are sheltered together in our little haven. I like that."

"For summer evenings, we could just sit outside overlooking the sea. I really enjoyed that in that little holiday cottage."

"Oh, Martin! That'll be lovely! So you can imagine us there?"

Martin stared at her. Then he slowly bent forward, putting his hand under her chin, and rubbing it gently, he leaned in for a tender kiss. "Actually, as long as I can be with you, I can imagine us anywhere."

Louisa threw her arms around him, and buried her face in his neck. Then she pulled back. "Martin Ellingham, you can be so irritating at times. So what's the next step?"

"I'd like to contact my solicitor, provided that you… I mean you do want to…or…?"

"Yes, Martin. I think that house will suit us fine."

"Well, I'll contact him then. He will know of a surveyor to send down to double-check if the house is in good condition. Meanwhile we can talk to the bank?"

"Good. What about decorating?"

"What?"

"You know – new paint, carpets…the personal touch."

Martin rolled his eyes. "I thought we'd give it a good clean-up, throw the carpets out and replace it with something more hygienic and we're done?"

"Don't you want this place to be ours, not just a handover from the former owners?"

"It will be ours – as soon as we pay."

"I see." She leant forward to give him a peck on the cheek. "I will think of something, and then we can discuss it next week. You take care of the legal stuff."

Finally being able to agree, they sealed the deal with a long, lingering kiss. Just at that moment, Bert's red delivery van passed by. Recognising Louisa's car and sensing two shadows within it, Bert in his diffident way, blew the horn. Martin jumped back and started to rant.

"That horrid Bert! Can't he mind his own business for once! Always interfering, always minding other peoples' business! Get a life of your own!"

Louisa put a finger on his lips. "Shhhh, Martin. Who's more important right now? Bert '_busybody_' Large? Or might there be someone more important?"

Martin looked confused. He watched Bert's car disappear and could swear he was waving at them. Then he looked into Louisa's eyes. Eyes and mouth smiling the same enticing smile. He peeked shortly at the slowly disappearing vehicle and then sighed.

"Right you are." He declared and met his lips with Louisa's.

They enjoyed each others company quite a bit. Louisa was thrilled, as it was the first time that they had kissed passionately in the car, which meant in Martin's book publicly.

After a considerable time, they headed down to Havenhurst Farm. Joan was already impatiently awaiting the news. She was delighted to hear, that her nephew would finally be back in Cornwall again soon. Louisa told Joan in bright colours about their new home. From time to time, she would throw in something like "Isn't it, Martin?" And the he would nod or utter "Yes."

First thing Monday morning, Martin contacted his solicitor. He sent a good surveyor down to examine the house. He also couldn't find a single fault. Furthermore, Martin contacted his bank. Finally, all the money earned at the Imperial could be put to good use. Now he was glad that he had ditched the ridiculously dear flat early on. He had invested the money wisely and paying for the house was really the least of his problems right now. The solicitor already prepared the contract.

Meanwhile, Louisa paid the house some more visits. She looked at it carefully, and imagined what colours she wanted for the different rooms. Except for Martin's intended study, she made a careful list of how she would like their new home to be. She also realised that they would need some new furniture. She had to talk to Martin about the financial side. In her mind, she had decorated all rooms to perfection. Would Martin agree with her plans? Or would it be too colourful for him?

Next weekend was very busy. Martin informed Louisa that the finance was secured and the surveyor had given his all clear. Louisa showed Martin her plans for the interior. He mainly had concerns with her preference of carpets – they are far too unhygienic – and demanded some adjustment of the staircase, for safety reasons. Otherwise he didn't care much about the interior decoration. Whatever Louisa liked would be OK, and she needn't worry about the money. That wouldn't be an issue.

A bit bashful he finally made one contribution to the new home. He asked Louisa if she could imagine having sort of French windows in their bedroom. The way it was built and located there was no way that someone could possibly catch a glimpse, so he would very much like as much light as possible in there, and to make most of the view. Louisa was delighted. They just needed a comfortable, huge bed in there, and then…Louisa blushed thinking about their private little haven. She was genuinely looking forward to sharing the room – and the house – with Martin.

Having decided what they would like to have done, Martin hunted for the best reputed craftsmen in the area. He didn't want any idiots muddling around with their new home. When Louisa saw his list of workers he intended to hire, she laughed.

"Why do you laugh? These things have to be done?"

"Has it ever occurred to you, that a strong healthy man like you could do some things on his own? Actually, I would be glad to help."

"Tell me, would you ever expect Bert Large to stitch someone together whose hand had landed under a moulding press?"

"No, surely not. That would be disastrous."

"Or the workers from Wadebridge Electric to save a foot from amputation after a motorbike crash?"

"Would be ridiculous."

"So why do you expect _me_ to do their work?"

"It's hardly the same thing, is it? Almost everyone can paint a wall, while your job is a bit more demanding."

"But why should I do it? They are trained to do it far more efficiently."

Louisa laughed. "Martin, sometimes you simply can't hide that your family is shockingly rich."

"Anything wrong with that?"

"No, I'm not criticising. Besides, it's neither your fault nor your merit. Simply a fact."

"Oh, right."

"It's just, we would have been either completely bust or completely lost if we had hired someone for every task. I'm so used to doing most things on my own or letting friends do it, that it feels odd just to hire someone."

"You don't have to. I will."

"Martin, have you ever painted a wall yourself?"

"Nope!" He paused. "Or, actually – actually I have, come to think of it."

"Really? What ill wind forced you to do such an outrageous thing?"

"Penhale's barmy brother. He had painted something weird on my surgery wall and no one wanted to paint it over. So I took care of it."

Louisa remembered how disappointed and hurt Pauline had been at the time. "That's hardly something to be proud of, and I wouldn't call Pauline's portrait '_something weird_'."

"Hardly the right decoration for a surgery."

"Let's not dwell on that." Louisa decided, that it was very much up to him what he did with his surgery. "Ever installed an appliance."

"Yep. A dish washer. Gave half of Portwenn the runs."

Now Louisa laughed genuinely. "Martin, maybe you're right. With that record, we better ask someone who knows what he's doing!"

_To be continued…_


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Sooner than expected, the Spencers were able to acquire their new little house in St. Austell. Therefore, Martin and Louisa could start redecorating. Louisa still couldn't believe the amount of workers summoned by Martin to do all different sorts of things, most of them she would have felt comfortable enough doing herself, but Martin didn't want any of it.

Instead he ordered the poor craftsmen around, like a general orders soldiers on a battlefield.

Louisa tried to smooth things for them, as she found it unfair that Martin knew everything better, without being able to do any of it himself. What was he thinking?

Martin didn't like it at all that Louisa usually took the side of the workers, although they showed irresponsible negligence with their work. If he were to take as much care in his job as they did in theirs, the mortality rate in the UK would go through the roof and he would find himself in court pretty soon, and rightly so. But obviously it was quite alright to spread paint around in all unwanted places and to drill holes that no one in this world needs, but it was outrageous if he pointed it out.

The atmosphere between Martin and Louisa grew a bit tense, and rows became more frequent. They tried hard not to explode and yell at each other in front of the workers or Peter. Joan's ability to smooth things was needed more than once. It was a nerve-wracking time for all of them and, to be honest, Louisa as well as Martin couldn't help but doubt at times if moving in for good was really the right decision.

Martin never supported these doubts for long, as his time in London had showed him clearly what he did _not _want. When he felt really fed up, he remembered his cold, empty room at Imperial and it helped him to make an effort to smooth things.

However, for Louisa the point where these doubts became dominant was reached one day. Louisa had been in Truro, leaving Peter with Joan, to choose some home accessories. Even before she entered the door of their new home, she could hear that a major row was in full bloom between the carpet layer and Martin. Louisa couldn't hear what it was all about, as both had reached the emotional, unobjective part of the '_conversation'_ before Louisa had arrived.

"So, Mr. _Know-it-all_! If you're so bloody brilliant, why don't _you_ lay your carpet yourself? You seem to do everything better?"

"At least I'm perfectly capable of doing my job – and that's all I ask from you!"

"I _was_ doing my job – until _you _knew it better!"

"Oh, that's how you do your job! You _really_ earn money that way?"

"You know what? See that you get your bloody carpet in place alone! _I'm off!_"

In the doorframe the carpet layer stormed out colliding with Louisa, who had just entered the room. It hadn't been difficult for Louisa to find Martin – she just had to follow her ears.

Noticing that the carpet layer had bumped into Louisa, Martin yelled after the worker: "Can't you be careful? – Oh, I forgot – you _really_ can't!"

A trail of fading swearing followed the craftsman.

"Oh, Martin! I wonder if there is any worker in a 10 mile radius who will be prepared to work for us ever again after we're finished with this house. I'd like to see just _one _worker that you haven't insulted."

"Then show me _one_ worker who does his job properly! Besides, I do _not_ insult them!"

"They see it differently – and, honestly, what you tell them sounds pretty insulting to me."

"I just point out when they make a mistake!"

"If you're so bloody wonderful in DIY, then remind me why we are paying this ridiculous amount of money?"

"_We_ are not paying, I am!"

"Thanks _very _much for reminding me! Is that how it will be in the future? _You_ are paying for me?"

"That's not what I mean!"

"That's what you said!"

"No – I mean…I…"

"WHAT, Martin? You mean _what_?"

"You didn't pay because you wouldn't have hired them!"

"I bloody well wouldn't, because I could have done it on my own! That would have saved them lots of insults!"

"And lots of income! Do you _really_ think they prefer people doing it on their own and they either have to change jobs or starve to death?"

Louisa answered meekly "Probably not." But with new strength she added. "But that doesn't give you the right to treat them like shit!"

"No, but it _gives_ me the right to expect good work for good money!"

"There's nothing wrong with their work!"

"No – then look around."

Louisa looked intently, but couldn't see any fault. "Looks good to me."

"You're not serious? Why do you _always_ take the side of the others, even when it's absolute nonsense?"

"I'm not taking anyone's side – but the carpet looks fine to me."

"And this link? It's completely uneven!"

Louisa looked at the spot Martin was pointing at. Finally, after looking very carefully, she could spot a very tiny gap where two pieces of carpet were joined together. Incredulously she stared at Martin. "Please, tell me that this tiny gap isn't what all the fuss is about."

"_Tiny gap_? The whole thing simply doesn't fit!"

"Martin, one can hardly see it. I certainly never would have noticed if you hadn't pointed it out. It's nothing."

"Nothing? Imagine me telling a patient after the operation that he wouldn't have to worry if his ankle was swollen, because the vessels are _almost_ linked and there's just a _tiny gap_ between them, nothing to worry about, you can hardly see – just the blood collects in the ankle!"

"This is hardly the same thing! This carpet is no safety matter."

"But it's not just this stupid carpet layer. They all do whatever they want, not in the least what we had agreed upon, and everyone's mucking it up! I pay _good_ money, and I expect _good _work!"

"And good work's what you get. This house looks marvellous."

Martin raised an eyebrow and looked down to her, trying to figure out if she was having him on or if that was her honest opinion. While he was still contemplating, Louisa continued.

"Martin, please remember the test Whitby did with you, about finding the _odd one out_. You know that you see those things far more clearly than the norm. So, _maybe_, this carpet looks unacceptable to you, as you see details no one else notices. Maybe it's really just in the eye of the beholder. That's why the workers can't do it right for you. They don't have your astute observation. I haven't got it either, so I don't spot anything wrong with it. If you want to have it your way, I'm afraid you will have to do it yourself."

"So what you're saying is that I'm the only one capable of working properly? So what are other people doing? Spending money they don't deserve?"

"Martin Ellingham! Sometimes you're really a pompous, arrogant arse!"

"Oh, _thanks very much!_ Is that Cornish for someone who actually knows what he's doing?"

"So you're fed up with the province already? A townie like you certainly needs the sophistication – or shall I say smugness – of London."

"So what you're saying is that I have to go to London to find someone who knows what he's doing? What is it about you people down here – can't you be bothered to interrupt your precious rhythm of life for some solid work, or is it incapability due to inbreeding?"

"_Oh, thank you! So I'm inbred, am I_?"

"Not you, but this whole blasted village!"

"You didn't have to come back to this _blasted village_! I can't remember asking you, and I doubt that _any_ villager sported a particular craving to have you back."

"Maybe they don't like me here, but they need me, as they are not even capable of washing their hands unless you tell them off three times a day."

"Oh yes, we all would die without you! It might have escaped you, but Portwenn didn't really die out during your absence. Maybe just fewer cases of panic attacks, depression or unexplainable violent behaviour. Might be because the Doc wasn't so irritating?"

"Oh, now the leaving Doc is the great example again? What was that about a cheeky, lazy bugger? Seems that a doctor in this village is good as long as he isn't practising?"

"No Martin, it's not about that, and you know it. But why do you have to treat every person with so much disdain?"

"I don't."

"But the workers will think otherwise."

"I wasn't criticising them personally, I merely pointed out the poor quality of their work."

"You can't separate the criticism of the work from criticism of the worker."

"You can."

"Martin, maybe _you_ can, but everyone else will feel insulted. If you're honest, you especially would feel insulted if anyone would criticise your work. You of all people wouldn't be able to bear it if someone implied that you're a bad doctor."

"But I'm not."

"No, I know you're not."

"So no one has reason to complain."

"_Neither have you with the carpet!"_

"I have reason. This is rubbish." He kicked against the barely visible gap.

"You simply don't want to see it, do you? Does it give you a feeling of power if you're ordering people around?"

"Rubbish." Martin screwed his face up in frustration. "But if they can't take criticism, then they shouldn't make any mistakes."

"Making mistakes is human."

"Oh, I thought it's idiotic. But around here that seems the same."

"That's it, Martin Ellingham. I'm truly fed up. You can look for a place for tonight. I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. Maybe you will find the remnants of some good manners tomorrow, otherwise we should think _really_ hard if this is the right step for us."

Martin stood panic-stricken, mouth agape, eyes widened in terror. "But Louisa, I'm just doing it for us. Our home should be perfect."

"It will never be perfect if people just notice the address and are already frightened or fed up. I always dreamt about a house where family and friends could gather, have a good time and a good laugh. I already buried that dream as you like your privacy and hate having people around. You get your wish there. The least I really do ask is for you to make the few necessary visitors feel welcome, and not treat them like scared rabbits."

"But they're not visitors, they're workers!"

"They are human beings with human rights and human dignity. They are not _tools_ to serve our needs. And that's the way I want them to be treated in _our_ house!"

"I don't want to use them as tools, I'd just be glad if they knew how to use theirs!"

"Martin, can't you see? It's not the amount of money put into a house that makes it a perfect home, it's the spirit, the way the people living there treat each other and their fellow citizens. If the inhabitants of a hut are happy and treating others with respect, then it's a far better home than the priciest villa with all gadgets available and not a single fault – except for the character of the owner."

"So what you're saying is – that I can't provide a perfect home for you because of my _character_?

"Not if you behave like that, no!"

"So, just because I don't become all smarmy as soon as a smart arse can't do their job properly, this home isn't suitable for you?"

"Not _smarmy_, polite would do!"

"Then teach me, _head teacher_ – how do you tell someone politely that he's an inefficient idiot?"

"To start with, you don't!"

"But if he is?"

"You don't even think it!"

"He doesn't stop being an inefficient idiot just because you're too dishonest to tell him?"

"Martin, you're horrid. You deliberately misunderstand me. Can't you just _for once_ admit you've made a mistake?"

"But I haven't!"

"Then maybe I have." Louisa's anger suddenly grew quiet and solemnly she declared. "Martin, I don't think I can stand you tonight. I just don't want to see you. Please."

Martin stared at her, shocked.

"But Loui…"

"Shut up, Martin, and simply go."

He looked at her with panic and horror in his eyes. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know if saying something would just make it worse.

Louisa knew that expression. It had been the start of their last big troubles. It was incredible how perfectly round his eyes could be when staring in panic. The worst thing was that she truly believed that he really didn't know what she was talking about.

"Martin, please!" She simply couldn't stand his presence right now.

"Eeehmm… can I fetch some things – for overnight?"

"I have to pick up Peter from Joan's. You have ample time to get what you need. I don't want you to be there when we come home."

Martin looked defeated, but went towards the door. In the doorframe he stopped and turned around. "But Louisa…"

"Stop it. Just stop it."

Totally beaten he went to his car and drove to the cottage. He gathered his things and stuffed them into his bag. For once he didn't really care if it was neatly packed. Nothing was neatly sorted out in his life right now, so why should the bag be? When he had placed his bag into the boot he locked the door and contemplated for a moment. Then he slid the key through the post box. Louisa should have full control when, or _if _(he shuddered to think) she wanted him back in her life. Then he drove down to Joan's farm. On his way he passed Louisa driving into the opposite direction.

_To be continued…_


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Martin knocked at the farm. When Joan opened the door, she looked surprised.

"Marty, you just missed Lousia."

'_Oh, yes'_ he thought '_and how I miss her already.'_

"Didn't Louisa tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Uuuhhmmm…." Louisa really didn't make it easy for him. "I just wondered if I could have my old room back?"

"Marty?"

"Just for tonight." '_I hope_' thought Martin.

"Marty, what have you done?"

"Maybe I'd better come in. It's bloody freezin' out here."

"Come in and then tell me. No beating around the bush, understand. An honest confession."

"I have _nothing_ to confess!" Martin retorted indignantly.

"In that case – why don't you drive back to _White Rose Cottage_?"

"Eeerrrr…I'd better put this away, first." Martin pointed to his bag and stormed upstairs.

Finally in the sanctuary of the room he had occupied while staying at Joan's farm as a boy, he dumped his bag carelessly into a corner and leant against the door. Back to the starting point.

He remembered how he had arrived in this room so often so many years – ages – lives ago, a bullied, unwanted child. First he dreamt that life would be better towards him some day. That someday he would find someone to understand him, to support him, to back him up. He had imagined how he would do _everything_ for this person, laying the world to her feet, offering the best of everything.

Then the breaking point, when he realised that the more he wished for something, the more it was bound to fail. Then the realisation that it would hurt less not to expect anything from this life, except maybe one thing – this ordeal wouldn't last for ever. Men are mortal, after all.

He was such an idiot! Why hadn't he stuck to this wisdom? Why ask for more? He had to know that fate – whatever that was – would punish him for wishing for too much. How could he be so bold to expect happiness like all other people had? He should have known that he was pushing his luck when he decided to ask Louisa to move in together. He never should have risked his weekend-happiness. Why couldn't he have been happy with the breadcrumbs live had thrown to him? Why ask for the whole cake?

He should have known it was not for him. But why? Why wasn't he allowed to be happy? Just for once?

Hadn't he waited patiently enough? He was in his late-forties, for heaven's sake! He couldn't wait until his deathbed to try for happiness?

Why was every idiotic oaf granted the privilege of some loving company, and he had to fight his own battle alone through his life – forever?

Martin had sat down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. He felt that he wouldn't be able to hold back the tears much longer.

Blast! How had he succeeded in mucking it up this time? All he wanted to do is provide the _perfect_ home for the three of them. He had waited decades to finally be able to fulfil his secret boyhood dream to create heaven on earth for the _one_ special person in his life. For the person who would bring redemption.

He had waited all theses painful years for the right person to come, losing hope on the way, working hard to allow himself to go for it, and finally being confident that this was forever.

Why was it wrong to do it right? Now, that he finally had the opportunity to build a family home, _nothing_ should have even the slightest fault.

Why couldn't Louisa see it? Why was she so cross, when he pointed out the mistakes others had made? And even she had to admit that there _had been_ a gap. So why was it wrong in pointing it out?

How should he make it right again? Lying to her that he was sorry? But he wasn't. He still thought that he had done nothing wrong. So it would be hypocritical to apologise. He simply couldn't do it. And Louisa couldn't possibly truly want him to, did she? She always told him how much she loved his honesty. So lying to her couldn't be the right way to smooth things, but only the highway to disaster.

What else? Explaining his point of view to her hadn't worked either.

Were there any other options?

Tomorrow he had to call Whitby. If anyone could help him now, then it was him.

"Marty? Are you alright?"

'_No, I bloody well aren't. Why can't she leave me alone?'_ Martin thought.

He could hear her coming up. Then a light knock on the door. "Marty?"

He tried to control his voice, breathing deeply, then finding the strength to answer. "I'll be down in a minute."

"Supper's ready."

For Joan, a shared meal was the main cure for everything. If life would just be that easy!

"I'm not hungry."

"You must eat."

"No, I don't."

"At least come down and get it off your chest. It's quite obvious you have hurt Louisa somehow."

"Why should _I_ always be the guilty part? There are two of us!"

"I know Louisa – and I know _you_."

"Yeah, the monster incarnate." Martin muttered to himself. Somehow life had played a dirty trick on him – he looked normal, but was a freak. He longed for a loving relationship, but wasn't capable of it, obviously. He felt vulnerable, but everyone accused him of being heartless. The perception of the world and his own view of himself couldn't be more different.

Even Joan, who knew him through all hard times, seemed to have no idea who he was. What was wrong with him?

"Marty?"

"Leave me alone a bit, _please!_"

"I don't think it's wise moping on your own."

"If I need your advice, I'll ask."

"Thanks very much. At least I'd like to know the reason for my nightly visitor. So please fill me in as soon as you feel up to it. Shall I start to eat alone?"

"Yes, _please!_"

"See you."

He got up and looked out of the window. It was pitch dark outside, but he could clearly see everything. He knew the view of this room by heart – just changing over the years due to different perspectives. Each time he had looked through these window he had grown a few inches, until he had finally reached the tallness that allowed him to tower above almost everybody. He was back to the things he knew. The surroundings he knew so well that he didn't have to turn on the light, as he was perfectly capable of going through this room without seeing anything. He had every movement memorised since boyhood. The view out the window, which he couldn't see, but imagine easily. Also back to his old feeling – of rejection, frustration, and the feeling of being deeply misunderstood.

It was frightening to think that having lived forty years since then, he still was the same miserable bugger. Only several feet taller. Only several years older. Only several shattered hopes sadder.

He sighed.

His time of exploration was over. The very short time when Louisa had challenged him. The time she had forced him to try something new.

He ran his hand through his hair. Yes, she had changed him. He had never had felt so deeply for anyone ever before. He was sure he would never be able to feel as deeply again. For a long time he had forgotten himself that his thick skin was guarding a rather tender core. It was Louisa who had allowed him to be aware of that again.

As long as she was with him, he felt curious enough to discover what he had missed on his way, even when he was complaining about it. She had given him some revelations. Not least of all sexual ones. But also the _family thing_. Her latest plan, she had been looking forward to, was introducing him to a proper Christmas. Their first Christmas together. Their first Christmas in their new house. The first Christmas he would celebrate, as the formalised school- , university and hospital Christmas parties didn't really count. She had already warned him that his non-singing policy wouldn't work on this particular day and had already compiled a list on YouTube where he could practise the songs. He had to admit, he had already had a look at them. Now there was no need to bother anymore.

Strangely enough he also already had an idea for a present for Louisa. Fortunately he hadn't bought it yet. It was strange how he had already tried to figure out her reaction – both alternatives, really, that she either was over the moon or utterly disappointed. It had felt exciting.

All this sparkle would be gone now. But he wasn't back at the starting point. He was far further behind than that.

He had tasted the good stuff, and then it had been taken from him. That was far worse than just imagining how it _might_ be and never had it. Yes, he felt like a junkie on cold turkey. Every fibre in his body hurt, and his brain was fixed on the object of addiction.

There was this blasted knock on the door again. Couldn't he even drown in privacy?

"Marty?"

"YES!"

"Louisa's on the phone. She wants to talk to you."

Martin's brain could just process the information '_Louisa_', and his whole body immediately went into action.

He rushed to the door, opened it quickly, hurried past Joan, almost bumping into her, and after a few seconds he gasped into the speaker "Louisa!"

"Get over here at once!"

"Louisa, you're not sore at me anymore?"

"I bloody well am, but now get your bloody arse over here!"

With that she rang off.

_To be continued…_


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

By now, Joan had followed downstairs.

"Things are looking up?"

Martin stared at the telephone.

"I'm….not sure."

"What do you mean? What did she want?"

"She ordered me to come back."

"So she wants your company. That's good."

"She sounded furious, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I'd better go. I don't want to make her wait."

"Before she thinks twice."

Martin gave her a look that could kill. He grabbed his coat and checked for the keys, then headed off, leaving all of his things behind.

The roads were a bit tricky in the November mist, so the trip took more time than usual.

Finally, he knocked on the door of _White Rose Cottage_.

"You took your time!" He was greeted by Louisa.

"Sorry, the weather..:"

"No time for your stupid excuses. Upstairs, now!"

"But Louisa!" Martin gasped, and his face revealed that he was thinking the obvious.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Louisa told him off, looking still _very _annoyed and with a sharp edge in her voice. "Your _lovely_ son is throwing a tantrum. He strictly refuses to go to bed if you're not reading to him."

"Oh?"

"I've tried for over an hour now, but he is infuriatingly stubborn. I wonder where that comes from."

"Yeah, imagine."

"What does _that_ mean, Martin Ellingham?"

"As you said, hardly imaginable him being stubborn, while we both give in so easily."

"I was more thinking of you!"

"If you say so."

"Now lets get this bloody bed time routine over and done with!"

Martin followed Louisa up the stairs, inwardly smiling that at least his son did miss him. It was strange how the parent – child relationship worked at this age. Louisa had told him during that weekend at the holiday cottage that having a child might be Martin's only chance to be accepted unreservedly, and she had been right. Peter had become the only person who liked being with Martin because he was, well, Martin. He didn't expect much and he didn't criticise. Well, not yet, anyhow.

Even in the hallway Peter could be heard protesting and crying, as Martin had never heard him before. As soon as Martin entered the door, his offspring shouted a relieved "Daddy" and sat up in bed to welcome his father with open arms. Martin bent down and Peter clung to his neck as if there would be no tomorrow.

"Daddy, Daddy!"

"Peter, everything's fine. I'm here."

"I thought you'd left!"

"Oh Peter, I'd never leave you."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart, and hope to die." He embraced Peter tightly, rocking him gently. "Cross my heart, and hope to die." Martin couldn't believe how good this felt. He also couldn't help wondering why no one ever felt it necessary to treat him that way as a child. It might have meant a world of difference to how he'd experience other people.

"It was something about the new house that kept me away. You know, Peter, it shall be good. Lots of space for you to play. When the weather will be warmer, you'll have a huge garden to play in. Your room is at least three times the size of this one. You'll have room to play in that belongs all to you."

"Even for my farm?"

"You can have a huge farm in your new room, and it can stay there for as long as you like." Martin loosened the grip and forced Peter under the blanket. He showed less resistance now. He stroked Peter's hair. "But now you have to promise me something."

"What, Daddy?"

"Be a good boy and go to sleep. You know, you shouldn't give your Mum such a hard time. She has the best in heart for you. Whatever she does, you can be sure it'll be for your best. You should be a good boy for her, and not make her so sad."

Peter looked over to Louisa, who had watched this scene with astonishment and a bit of annoyance at the same time. She had tried for an entire hour to put her son to rest, and Martin had just to come to his bed, and everything was fine. Her son clearly was Martin's son.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, Peter."

"Sorry."

Louisa stepped towards the bed and cuddled Peter. "It's alright, but after we read to you, you'll go to sleep without any further discussion."

"My song?"

"Yes, Peter, of course – but then."

"Yes, Mummy."

Martin started the story, as he always had the 'narrator'-part, and most stories started with narration. From then on, the bedtime routine was smooth sailing, and Peter even fell asleep during the reading. After the story, Louisa sang, as promised, although she wasn't sure if he was still listening.

Silently, both parents slipped out of Peter's room, and in the hallway an awkward silence followed. Martin was eying Louisa cautiously, who still looked definitely fed up. Slowly he started his way down, with her following.

They stood awkwardly in the living area and Martin tried to figure out what was expected of him. As the silence endured and Louisa gave no sign that she had changed her mind in regard to the feelings she had expressed earlier that day, he finally sighed. "I'll be off, then."

He grabbed his coat and was already at the door, when he heard Louisa say hesitantly. "Stay"

Martin kept standing in the door and slowly turned around. "You're sure?"

"The mist had developed into solid fog. It's too dangerous to drive."

"I could try if you wanted me to."

"No. That's silly. Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Don't try to discuss anything tonight."

"Right. Shall I call Joan then?"

"Why?"

"She might be expecting me back."

"Do."

He picked his mobile and called Joan.

"Hello!"

"Joan, it's me. Martin."

"So what's the matter? What is this all about?"

"Just called to say that I won't be coming back tonight."

"So everything's sorted out?" Joan sounded relieved.

Martin looked towards Louisa, who still had an air of a thunderstorm around her. "No, I don't think so. See you tomorrow."

"Oh Marty! Try to behave and do the right thing for once."

"See you."

They sat down in the room. Outside the window you couldn't even make out the harbour, as the fog was that dense. As was the atmosphere in the room.

The only thing on Martin's mind he wanted to discuss was the one thing he had promised not to tackle. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

Louisa didn't seem to want to talk at all. So they sat quietly, which became very uncomfortable indeed. So it was no wonder that Louisa declared very soon that she'd withdraw to bed.

"Shall I get a blanket then?" Martin asked.

"What for?"

"I thought I'd sleep on the sofa."

"Don't be silly. You wouldn't be comfortable."

"So?"

"Come to bed whenever you like."

"Sure?"

"Yes. Night."

So she climbed the stairs. He sighed. He couldn't handle this situation at all. Being in the same house, later in the same bed, knowing she was so cross with him, not knowing how to solve it without making it worse. He switched off the lights and stared out into the fog. He was seeing as clearly as his thoughts were. He listened to Louisa going into the bathroom, heard the toilet flush, heard the water running. Bathroom door opened and closed again. Bedroom door opened and closed again. The little squeak the bed made when someone lay down. He had never realised how much he had grown used to all the different sounds. Sounds that meant home to him somehow. Sounds that gave him a feeling of security. Sounds that meant being together. Sounds that reminded him how much was at stake.

He waited and stared for some time, hoping that Louisa would be asleep when he came upstairs. Finally he climbed the stairs heavy-hearted and prepared for bed. Silently he slipped under the blanket. He could feel her warmth. He also knew that tonight there was a strict no-touching-policy. He couldn't sleep. It was worse that he knew for sure that she was awake, too, but pretended to be asleep, firmly on her side.

Martin lay on his back, unable to sleep. He listened to her breathing, and he was sure she was sobbing. He had made her cry. And he had promised not to talk about it tonight. And he didn't know what to do to make it better. He lay there for hours, growing more and more frustrated.

It was shortly after one o'clock that he slipped quietly out of bed. Louisa couldn't pretend to be asleep any longer.

"Where are you going?"

"Off."

"Whereto?"

"Joan's."

"It's in the middle of the night."

"Then – oh, I don't know."

_To be continued…_


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

A short silence followed while he sat on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his hands, and her trying to make out his frame in the dark.

"Louisa, I can't do this."

"What?"

"Lying next to you, unable to sleep, you pretending to be asleep while I can tell by your breathing you're not. Not allowed to talk it through. Not knowing what to do to make it better. I simply can't. I'd rather spend the night in the freezing car."

"Good. Let's talk. But please be aware that Peter is sleeping a few feet away. So no shouting."

"Sure."

Louisa leant back on her elbows, looking vaguely into Martin's direction. "You first."

"I don't know what to say. To be honest, I'm not too sure what this is all about."

"I thought I'd made myself clear."

"It can't be just because of the carpet layer?"

"Why not?"

"That was nothing."

"That's the problem – he is nothing to you."

"And what is he to you?"

"A human being."

Martin groaned. "Yes, Martin. That _is _the problem."

"He didn't do his work properly and I told him so."

"It was hardly a mistake and even if it was, it's all down to how you tell him. Why do you always have to act so superior?"

"I don't."

"But you come across that way."

"But you know me."

Louisa sighed.

"What?"

"Well, Martin. Since you're back in our lives you're in London most of the times. I had hardly seen you interact with anyone except Joan, Peter and me. And you're so different towards us."

"I promised you to try."

"Yes, you did. Somehow I thought you might be different towards others, too."

"They don't mean anything to me."

"I don't ask you to love the whole of mankind. Just be polite."

"And that means looking away if someone can't do his job?"

"Sometimes I believe you misunderstand me on purpose." Martin turned around to look into Louisa's direction.

"No, I don't. I just find it hard enough to pull myself together when Peter, Joan or you are involved. I simply can't see how anyone can have the strength to do it all the time towards everyone."

"Because you don't like people."

"No, I don't."

"They don't mean anything to you."

"No, they don't, but I can tell you _what_ means anything to me. Providing the perfect home for us."

"But Martin…"

"No, this is my turn. I waited all my life to be able to care for someone. Even you didn't let me care for you when you needed me most. Being in my old room at Joan's tonight made me remember. When I had been a boy, I was dreaming that someday someone would care for me, just one single, special person, who could accept me without picking on me all the time. And I swore to myself that I would lay the world at her feet. Nothing should be too good for her, nothing too expensive."

"I waited four decades to finally being able to build up a home. This is my one and only chance to make the home right. And I want it to be perfect. It shall be the perfect shelter for us."

"Shelter from what? The world? The people?"

Martin nodded.

"Just the three of us against the world."

"Not against, Louisa, but safe from it."

"You know, my dream as a girl had been different. I always dreamt that _if_ I would ever have a house of my own, it would be full of laughter and joy. I never cared about how it should be equipped. I just imagined a huge kitchen-diner where friends and family would gather, turn a bottle or two, eat together and have a few laughs."

Martin looked towards her sceptically.

"But what for?"

"It's fun, Martin. For us _normal_ people it's fun. Trouble is, I've chosen the wrong man for that."

"So I'm the wrong man for you?"

Louisa thought silently for a moment, bringing Martin on the verge of panic.

"I guess I just have to say goodbye quietly."

"To us?" Martin asked, feeling a lump in his stomach.

"I think I have to say goodbye to my dream."

There was an awkward silence now.

"I'm sorry I'm not the man you dreamt about."

"It's not that. In so many ways you are, but in some respect you're really the exact opposite."

"At Joan's I was thinking that you might expect an apology."

"Yes, but?"

"It's just, I still don't feel that I did do anything wrong. It wouldn't be honest. It would be a bloody lie, and I simply can't lie to you."

"Being polite isn't necessarily lying."

"But how can you tell if someone's really sorry or just pretending because he wants the easy way out?"

"Oh, Martin. Everything's a matter of principle for you. You just can't do anything because it's the usual thing to do?"

"No, not if it's dishonest. And you always tell me you love me for my honesty. So you can't really want me to."

There was a long silence. They were on the same bed, but universes apart.

Finally Martin had to have clarity about where he stood.

"So signing the contract to buy the house was a mistake?"

Louisa sighed. "Seeing you with Peter tonight made me realise that there's no way back, now."

"You don't have to stay with me because of Peter. I will look after him no matter what you decide."

Finally Louisa got up in bed, kneeling behind him.

"No, Martin. That's not what I mean."

Martin turned around, and now they were close enough to look into each other's eyes, even in the dark.

"Look, Martin. You were pretty marvellous with Peter tonight."

"No, I was not."

"Don't contradict me. Just think back six months."

"Better not."

"You surely remember the picnic when you first saw your son?"

"Not an easy day to forget."

"You were absolutely clueless."

"Of course I was. I had never had anything to do with children."

"Tell me, when did you become a father?"

"I didn't."

"Don't fool yourself. If someone would have told me a year ago I would ever hear you say '_Cross my heart and hope to die_' while rocking your son gently in your arms, I'd declare him totally Bodmin. But I was there. I saw."

Martin didn't answer.

"Martin, I never realised before how close you and Peter had grown over those weekend-visits."

Martin stared at his hands.

"When you came into Peter's room, I could see the man I love again."

"Yes, but I'm _also_ the man who fought for his right for a perfect home this morning."

"Yes, Martin. I guess I have to learn to live with that. It's just I'm tired of feeling like I have to apologise for you all the time."

"I need no one to make apologies for me."

"I have to confess, this morning I just felt I owed the poor man an apology for your behaviour."

"How do you think I feel knowing you're ashamed of me?"

"It's not that."

"How would you call it?"

Louisa thought for a moment. "Maybe you're right, maybe I was a bit ashamed of you."

"Don't you think it makes me feel lousy? I want someone to back me up, not to attack me from behind. Louisa, I don't think you have _any_ idea how much it cost me to find the courage to want anything again. I learned early on that wishing for something was the safest bet not to get it. So I stopped wishing. When I asked you to move in together, it was the first time since I was a little boy that I allowed myself to look forward to something, picture out in my head how it might be. Tonight I felt crushed, because I thought in wishing for too much I had ruined it again."

"Too much?"

"Yes, that I should have been happy with the breadcrumbs of weekend-visits."

"It's just, everything is about me and you only."

"Anything wrong with that?"

"We're not an island. We're part of a community."

"I'm not."

"No, that's the point. So what can we do?"

"I don't know."

"Can't you compromise?"

"No, Louisa. Not on our home. Maybe you can let me handle the workers and all work necessary, and you just have a look when everything's finished. We agreed on how it shall look like, so no need for you to be there, really."

"So you can insult everyone undisturbed?"

"So that I can provide top quality work for us and present you with the perfect home. It'll be just about two weeks or so. I promise you that everything will be ready for Christmas."

"Whatever it costs?"

"It will be ready. Don't worry about the how and how much. Let me do that."

"I don't know if I like the idea."

"Maybe you don't see the faults in their work, but they are painfully clear to me, and whenever I'll see them for the rest of our lives, it will remind me that I'm not capable of providing the home you and Peter deserve."

"Don't be silly. The house so far is the best home we could wish for."

"I couldn't be happy there."

"So if you have to correct every single flaw, can you please promise me one thing?"

"What?"

"Promise me first."

"You're joking! I don't promise anything not knowing what I'm getting myself into!"

Louisa sighed. "_If_ you have to criticise the workers, can you at least keep your voice down and stick to the facts? Don't be personal, and don't say more than absolutely necessary to point out what you regard as a mistake."

"Why? Why are you _always_ concerned about the feeling of others? Why do I always have to make the kowtow?"

"I _am_ thinking about you. That's why I ask this of you."

"You think of how I am a nuisance to these idiots and how you can save them from me."

"No, that's not it. Can't you see that they just laugh about you when you behave that way?"

"People have always laughed at me, as long as I can remember. Seems to give them loads of pleasure."

"Don't you think it has something to do with your behaviour?"

"Are you implying that I'm ridiculous?" Martin asked very miffed.

"It's just that it is so easy to wind you up. So everyone has real pleasure in doing so. You can explode over nothing. You always try so hard to appear dignified, and then one stupid comment sends you through the roof. There is nothing respectable about a person who shouts over a trifle, and people can't take one seriously who insists of being treated with respect, but shows no respect for others. If you start to rant, you just give them reason to ridicule you."

"So just because they feel it necessary to ridicule me so that they don't have to pay attention to their mistakes that I point out, I should let them do whatever they want?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying. Just don't make it personal. Just say, for example '_There's a gap at the joint of these pieces of carpet. Please correct this._' But keep away from insults and from shouting."

"Why is it so important to you what they think?"

"I see how they laugh about you. Don't you think it gives my heart a twinge? I know the man you are, and so often I'm so terribly proud of you. I also see how much it hurts you, even if you don't admit to it. Then, again, I can't blame them, as you do everything to provoke it."

"So _I_ am to blame that they take me for a ride?"

"In a way, yes."

"_Thanks very much!_"

"You wanted to have my honest opinion. If you can't pull yourself together to avoid being laughed at, please think of Peter."

"Why, what has Peter got to do with it?"

"Right now, nothing. He's at an age where his playmates don't talk much and play more. When he starts going to school, latest, he will face the opinion of others. They will confront him about how they see us. If you're lucky, Peter will defend you. It will give him hard times, and he might lose a few friends because of it, but maybe he will stand up for you. If you're not so lucky, he'll despise you for letting him take the blame for your behaviour."

"So you think it's better that I leave before I make life miserable for him?" Martin was now really concerned. That was the last thing he wanted, to ruin Peter's life, to make him an outsider, to drag him down.

"No, Martin. Running away is no solution. You've seen how much Peter needs you, how much he loves being with you. If you desert him now, he will hate you for the rest of his life. I couldn't stand that."

"So you and all the others try to blackmail me to sugar-coat the whole village."

"I don't expect you to like them. I gave up any hope you might learn how to like them a long time ago. I don't even expect you to be nice to them. Just don't make a fool of yourself. Don't lose your temper in front of them. Don't give them reason to laugh at you. And I don't ask that for their sake, but for yours, Peter's and my sake. Can't you do that for us?"

"I would like to see _you_ if everyone was sneering at you."

"What do you think the village did when I returned six months pregnant? Do you think it was a bed of roses? Especially as I had to stay in the pub, you being the father, not showing any interest at all, especially as everybody thought you were fooling around with Edith? Don't you think I had my share of ridicule? People didn't really congratulate me – neither on my pregnancy nor on my choice of the father. The only one, really the one and only one, thoroughly happy for me was Joan. I just put on a brave face – and don't you think it was easy, it's darn difficult for everyone – I just let them talk until it was old news. If you don't pay attention they lose interest sooner rather than later."

"Another thing I learned early on, being in a tough school with my father's dodgy businesses, is if you tell everyone almost everything there is to know, it's no fun gossiping. The more gaps you leave, the more they are having fun filling them with the most outrageous assumptions. So the safest way to take the wind out of their sails is to tell them everything yourself. The more malicious they are to you, the more they will be humiliated if you repay them with friendliness. You can turn the table on them, then."

"You should try it. It works astonishingly well."

Martin looked sceptically towards her. After quite some time he said.

"I don't know if I can?"

"I don't expect you to be perfect from the start, but can't you just try it for me?"

"You don't know how deeply I've been hurt since as far back as I can remember, to be honest. I just can't bear it. You really ask too much of me."

"I know you can do it. If you need someone to get it off your chest, I'll be there for you. You said you want someone to back you up. I couldn't back you up today, as I really thought you were wrong, and I can't back you up whatever it takes. If you try to be more polite and pull yourself together, I'll be there to back you up. In our room, you can say whatever you like. You can rant, and insult the whole village. You can let off steam here. Just don't give them the impression that they've got to you."

"But what if they complain even when I stick to your advice, when I really matter-of-factly, in a low voice, point out the items that have to be improved?"

"Then I will try to ignore all the talk and complaints. I try to see the family first, and forget about the others."

"So there will be an '_us_'."

"I think that can't be changed anymore."

"I don't want to change it, do you?"

"No. It just needs some adjustment."

"I know the feeling." She stroked his shoulder.

"Can we go to sleep now? I'm tired."

"Only one thing."

"Yes?"

"May I take you into my arms as usual? I couldn't stand lying next to you and not being with you."

"Alright, I think I could use a proper hug."

Both cuddled together and were soon asleep.

Louisa didn't visit their new house before Martin gave his all clear at the end of November. Louisa tried not to think about the way Martin made the craftsmen hold to every deadline. She had placed the responsibility into his hands.

Martin had made sure that the house was perfect to the last detail. He had to argue with more than one worker, but finally he had achieved a standard he found acceptable. This was the house he could imagine living in with Louisa for the rest of their lives.

One Saturday at the end of November, he showed Louisa and Peter around. Their new home was quite impressive. Most of the new furniture was already there, and in the following weeks they just had to add their possessions to make it finally and truly theirs. Louisa was happy about the result and forced herself not to think about the way it had been achieved.

Martin had already quit at the Imperial, and with all the time compensation and left over holidays, he could stay down in Cornwall. His old 'new' position as GP would start in February, so he had ample time to move in with Louisa.

For the final touches, they had asked Joan to look after Peter. Then the moving van was ordered for that day to bring down Martin's possessions. Louisa's things were transported by Bert Large's van. They spent a busy time placing the remaining objects, hanging up pictures, filling the shelves and cupboards. For lunch, Joan and Peter came along with some sandwiches, before Louisa and Martin continued their job.

Only in the early hours had they finally finished every task and were ready to live in this house for good from now on. Exhausted they went upstairs. Martin had used the en-suite first, and after Louisa had had her turn, she went into the bedroom finding him sitting on the floor leaning against the bed.

"What's the matter? Don't you want to go to bed?"

"Just look at the view."

Louisa looked out the panorama windows. It was full moon and a storm swept over the shore. The sea looked as if it was boiling. Waves crushing against the distant cliffs.

Louisa sat down in front of Martin, and he put his arms around her protectively. He rested his chin on her shoulder, and together they watched the storm. For minutes they sat silently.

"Martin, don't tell me ever again that you don't get what you wish for."

"Why?"

"You even got your stormy November night the first time we sleep here."

Martin smiled. She was right. Right now he had everything he could wish for. He squeezed her harder.

"That is not the most important thing I wished for and finally got."

Louisa leant back, snuggled into him. "Martin, I love you."

"Yes, Louisa, I love you too."

_To be continued…_


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

A new year was about to start. The first year that promised to be spent with Louisa, 365 days of the year.

Louisa was looking forward to a very special treat. At Christmas Louisa had been surprised that Martin had surpassed himself with the Christmas present. He actually had given her two tickets for a New Years concert. It would take place at some stately home that had been transformed into a hotel and conference centre. The event would start in the late afternoon with a high class classical concert, leading to a five course dinner, followed by fireworks in the surrounding park to greet the New Year at midnight. Afterwards there was some gathering with champagne. It all sounded very posh, with a strict dress code. Louisa didn't only look forward to the event itself, as she liked to be dressed up for a change, she also valued that the second ticket meant that Martin was coming, too. Knowing how he hated these sorts of things, she really was surprised when she had opened that simple envelope on Boxing Day.

Now they were getting ready to leave to see the old year out with so much glamour, the old year that had been so good to both of them. Louisa couldn't convince Martin to go for a tux, he would feel awkward in it, he declared. So he put on his smoking jacket. Louisa was wearing a strapless burgundy evening dress that had accompanied her Christmas present. Even though Martin had felt very bashful in giving Louisa her gift, she had to admit that he had bloody good taste. At least when it came to how he liked to see her.

Joan was spending the evening at their house, babysitting Peter.

"Don't worry about us! Peter and I will have a marvellous evening. And you two, just run off!"

Martin opened the door of his Lexus for Louisa, and then they drove down to the venue. The journey was done in silence. Martin seemed even more uncommunicative and a bit more tense than usual. Maybe even a bit nervous. Louisa had noticed this over the last couple of days, actually. Obviously, he dreaded going to this ghastly gathering, but was putting a brave face on to please her. That's how she explained it for herself, and she loved Martin even more knowing that he was going through this ordeal just for her.

The house was a beautiful Georgian mansion. When they arrived, they had to park at the foot of a long drive, leading to the house. The couple enjoyed the leisurely stroll through the magnificent park despite the hint of frost that was already in the air.

Arriving at the entrance hall, there was a small reception. Everyone was offered a glass of champagne, which Martin declined. Louisa noticed with a smile – not even for this special occasion he would loosen his strict personal rules. Louisa took her glass with pleasure, breathing in the classy atmosphere, enjoying feeling quite classy herself. Louisa noticed the disgusted look on Martin's face when he saw the tray with finger food. But at least he watched his tongue and kept silent. Louisa no longer actually expected him to like it. She was happy enough that he hadn't spoiled it and so far, he had behaved himself. Well, he hadn't uttered a word at all, since they left home, for that matter.

The concert itself was high class. A quite reputed chamber orchestra had performed some lighter Baroque pieces, just to set the mood for a joyful ending of the old year. It was just perfect hearing this brilliant music, surrounded by masterful pieces of art and high class stucco ceilings. Louisa was enjoying herself. She didn't pay too much attention that Martin was sitting on the edge of his chair, quite visibly uncomfortable. Before they had gone on their way, she had decided that it was not worth letting the worries about Martin ruining the evening for her. He had given this present to her, now he had to live with it. As long as he didn't act too embarrassing, she would not pay any attention to his discomfort. She had to admit that he hadn't misbehaved once, so far. He even applauded quite enthusiastically at the end of the performance, for his account.

The real acid test came at dinner. First of all, the dining time was far too late for Martin, but he put a brave face on it. However, what quite visibly puzzled him was the amount of empty calories shuffled along, the way that there were calories added just for the sake of the visual effects. He ate quite little, Louisa noticed, and glanced a couple of times over to her, seemingly disapproving her enjoying every course of the meal, with a glass of excellent wine going with it. Sometimes she really wondered if the inevitable glass of water wasn't to blame that Martin never seemed to enjoy himself. But she didn't worry too much.

For Martin, it was really astonishing to see how people could keep on prattling while gorging down incredible amounts of food of unknown provenance. He was just glad that other GPs would be responsible for sorting out the gastrointestinal problems of this greedy lot.

The dessert was served well before midnight, so that the whole crowd could finish their meal in time After being forced to yet another glass of champagne – what did these people think they were doing in being so lavish with potentially addictive drugs – the whole group found themselves in the now frosty park. Martin had helped Louisa into her coat, and while walking down the path, she had taken his arm. She smiled as she could feel his upright figure even straightening more with pride. He didn't have to say much, in fact he still hadn't uttered a word, to show his affection. His body was quite revealing when you just observed it carefully.

Because of the cold, Louisa cuddled close into Martin as soon as they had gathered on the terraced garden to watch the fireworks, which were displayed under the sound of 'Music for the Royal Fireworks' by George Frederic Handel. Louisa beamed up to Martin, whispering "Happy New Year." It was then that Martin broke his silence to respond in the same way.

When everybody was heading back to the house, obviously to fill themselves up with even more alcohol, Martin turned to Louisa, cleared his throat and asked: "Would you mind if we go for a walk? Just a bit?" As Martin had behaved himself the whole evening, she thought he had earned some quiet time so that his buzzing head could get some rest.

Martin put his arm around Louisa, and she snuggled into him, so that she wasn't too cold. When they had reached a lake, that was frozen over and glistening in the moonlight, Martin stopped without warning. She noticed that his breath was going a bit irregular, so she broke away from his embrace and faced him. She could feel both his hands on her shoulders, sort of straightening her out, as if he wanted to make sure that she was in exactly the right angle towards him. He cleared his throat. Then took both her hands in his.

"Louisa, I am very grateful to you for the way this - eeehm-no, the last year, actually, turned out. You made this a very special year for me. For the first time I found, yes, I found happiness. To come home every evening to you and Peter really makes a huge difference, I want to thank you, from all my heart, that you gave me another chance. That you hadn't given up on me. For your patience." By now Louisa had tears in her eyes. This was so unlike Martin, but so romantic. She even forgot the cold, as her heart warmed for him.

"You encouraged me to simply ask, if there was something on my mind. That's why I would now like to ask you one more thing. I won't be angry if you actually say no. I want to assure you before I go on."

"Louisa, my life is close to perfect now, but there is one thing that is bothering me. That really is a stain on my happiness."

"I don't know how you experienced these last few weeks. I personally believe that us living together has worked out surprisingly well. I can hardly recall any rows, at least no vicious ones, no bad feelings. Peter seems to have got used to me and not be bothered by my presence." Louisa smiled. That was a huge understatement. Peter seemed to be quite happy to have a strong male presence around.

"You seem to have got used to not living in the village centre. I hope you're not too bored by it." Louisa shook her head slowly, smiling with tears in her eyes. Martin coughed nervously and took a sharp breath.

"Given all that, Louisa, I hope we have settled quite comfortably. So I hope you don't find my next question too offending."

"I know you think I'm hopelessly old fashioned, and maybe I am. My moral convictions are sometimes irritating to you. However, it doesn't feel completely right to me to live together with you. There is something within me, that still doesn't feel completely integrated, and I tried to ignore it, but can't completely. For me there is one thing missing to feel completely like family."

"But it's not only that, Louisa, it's also because I want with all my heart devote my life to you and Peter forever. I want to have it legally sealed that we belong together." By this Martin took another deep breath. Then he went down on one knee, still holding both of Louisa's hand, and looking up to her. He cleared his throat.

"Louisa, would you do me the honour of marrying me?"

Louisa gulped. This was so different from his last, spontaneous, desperate proposal. However, this time she was more hesitant. Didn't they harm their relationship the last time just by wanting to get married?

"Martin, please get up. It's freezing."

"Louisa, I'd like to have an answer. Even if it's negative. I told you, I'll accept that."

Louisa took his face into her hands. "Please get up. Even when it's so romantic, I don't want you to suffer from arthritis tomorrow." Louisa teased him, but Martin didn't move a muscle.

"OK. Then let's talk about it with you kneeling in the frost. Part of me wants to marry you very much, Martin. And I agree wholeheartedly with your opinion about our life together. But why risk spoiling it? Remember, the last time we planned to get married, it was the beginning of our…"

"Louisa, I promise I will turn up this time. Honestly I will."

"Yes. I know. But after the last experience…don't you think that things are working fine for us now." She looked into his eyes that turned sad. She could see that it would make a difference to him – and his old fashioned views. She loved him for being so moral, so dependable. Why violate his feelings just because of the past?

Louisa looked around to take the wonderful winter night in. She had to distract her thoughts, even when it was difficult with Martin holding one of her hands again. Would anything change by marriage, for her account? In contrast to the last time, they were now already living together. Could she imagine that in the foreseeable future they would part again? No chance really, she loved to have him around. She could hardly imagine her life without him. Except for her surname, there would be no changes really.

"Louisa Ellingham?" She said out loud. "I certainly will have to get used to it. Louisa Ellingham? Peter Ellingham? If you repeat it a couple of times, it doesn't sound too badly, does it?" With that she looked Martin right in the eyes again.

"Martin. I can see how much it means to you. I won't lie to you. I am a bit alarmed, as things went wrong the last time just after we decided to tie the knot. But you're right; circumstances are so much different now. You know, I love you for being honest and decent. And now I am making you live in an arrangement that violates your sense of morals."

"You're right, I think in the 21st century your reservations seems old-fashioned to me. But … I thought about it. I don't really think anything would change for me. And I'm quite sure that I don't want anything to change anymore. I was a bit afraid that you would drive me nuts, to be honest. But as you said, living together turned out to be astonishingly pleasant."

"And now get up from the bloody frost, you silly man! I will marry you!"

Martin tightened his grip on her hands, brought them to his face and kissed them. Then he turned them around and gently kissed the palms of her hands. Louisa felt uncomfortable by now. "Please, Martin, get up." He did as he was told. He was deeply moved. They looked into each others eyes for a long time.

"Eeehm…I almost forgot." Martin was fumbling around in his different pockets. "Ah, here…Hope you…like it?" With this he took a diamond ring out of a box. "Eeeh…shall I..?" he pointed to her hand. By now he had found out that he was supposed to place the ring on her finger. "Yes, Martin, that's lovely." Shyly she held her hand towards him. He tried to put the ring onto her finger, which was difficult as he was shaking visibly. When the task was finally accomplished, she touched his hand lightly. He sighed "Oh, Louisa."

"Don't you want to kiss the bride-to-be?"

He bent down, still holding her hand, and gave her the gentlest of kisses. Then he withdrew and just looked into her eyes. Two words echoed in his head "Louisa ELLIGNHAM". He liked the sound of it.

Louisa started to feel the cold. She could see that Martin was far from realising anything. Even when it would be a shame to ruin this romantic moment, she definitely needed to go into the warmth, and felt the urge to celebrate with some champagne.

"Martin, as nice as this is – it is also bloody freezing."

Martin felt guilty. He had completely forgotten about the frost. He was still meditating about those two most wonderful words in the world.

"Of course…eehh…sorry." Then he started to stride back, but Louisa slowed him down by grabbing his hand. "Here, that's better, isn't it?"

So they walked back towards the hustle and bustle. In front of the main entrance, Louisa stopped. Martin looked at her questioningly, when she got on tiptoes to reach for him for a sound kiss. "Thanks for this evening. This year starts very promising."

_To be continued…_


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

The reception was still very lively, and a huge crowd reached for the champagne. Louisa took a glass, knowing she didn't even have to offer Martin one. While she sipped the bubbly, she said "Oh Martin, it's so nice here. Do you mind if we stay a bit?" knowing that he hated to miss his night sleep. "I simply can't face going home yet."

Martin didn't show any sign of response. So Louisa simply kept on drinking her champagne. Shortly before she had finished the glass, Martin told her. "I'll be back in a minute. Wait here." And off he went.

A minute later, Martin had reached the night receptionist.

"Do you still have vacancies for tonight?"

"Sir, it's a bit late to check in."

"Do you or don't you?"

"You don't understand, at this time…"

"Can't you understand a simple question?"

"I did understand quite well, but usually we.."

"This is not usual. I want a room, and if you have vacancies, I doubt that the manager would reject the surely exorbitant sum that you will charge for it. Can I speak to the manager? Now!"

"I think this will not be necessary."

"No? Maybe he can translate my simple question so that even YOU can understand it. For the last time – Are you fully booked?"

"No, Sir, but.."

"But you don't want the hotel to earn any money?"

"Yes, Sir."

"So what's the problem?"

"Check in is until.."

"Bullocks! I didn't know I need a room until now. You have a room. So simply hand over the keys. Even _you _should be able to do this."

"We just have the honeymoon suite."

Martin gulped. "Give me the keys."

By now the receptionist would have done almost anything to get rid of this customer. So she handed over the keys, and Martin filled in the registration.

Louisa was already wondering what Martin was doing. She scanned the room for his tall frame, but he was nowhere. After what seemed ages, he finally appeared and headed right towards her.

"Martin, it's getting late. If you want to go now?" Louisa sighed.

"No need to."

Louisa looked puzzled. Martin handed her the key card.

"You booked a room? You booked a room without telling me? You could have warned me."

"Sorry. I thought…you just said…You said you didn't want to go home."

"So you just checked in?" Martin nodded.

"At this time? I thought..:" Now Louisa knew what had taken so long. She felt dearly for the poor receptionist.

"Maybe that's a good idea. I think I would like to go up to our room now."

Louisa took Martin's arm and they both looked for their room. When Louisa inserted the card and the heavy wooden door opened, she was in awe. It was a beautiful room. Breathing in all the class of this stately home. "Martin, this is a lovely idea."

Martin looked at her, stopped and almost ran out of the room shouting "Just make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a minute!"

Louisa stood in shock. What was that all about? They surely had passed the stage that he ran away at the prospect of being with her!

Meanwhile, Martin sped down the stairs. In no time he was face-to-face with a very unhappy looking receptionist. _Not him again!_

"I need champagne - and a rose!" He ordered breathlessly. The receptionist just pitied the woman who was about to spend the night with this boisterous brute. As businesslike as she could she answered coldly. "I'm sure you'll get champagne at the bar. It is open until 6 am."

"Right. The rose?"

"I'm very sorry, but we do not have any roses."

Martin pointed towards the flower arrangement in the lounge. "And what is that? Beet roots?"

"It is the flower arrangement for the New Years ball." The poor girl sighed. By now she didn't hide in her voice that she was _really_ annoyed.

"The ball is over, isn't it?"

"Actually, there are quite a few still at the reception right now."

"And how many of them are still in a state to notice a rose more or less?" With this Martin headed towards the flowers.

"Sir, you can't possibly think…"

"Actually, I _can_ think." A further attempt of contradiction was silenced by Martin with a determined _Shush!_. By now the receptionist decided that she wasn't paid enough to defend one bloody rose against such a pain in the neck.

Martin pinched one single red rose carefully, and then headed towards the bar. The barkeeper was far more useful and provided the requested alcohol without hesitation. "Two glasses, Sir?"

"No, just…actually, yes – two glasses."

Finally successful he carried his loot back to the room. On his way, he got his mobile out to inform Auntie Joan. There was no response for a long time. Finally a very tired and very grumpy Joan bellowed in the receiver "YES?"

"Sorry Aunty Joan. Did I wake you up?"

"No, of course not Marty. It's only about two o'clock in the morning. How on earth did you get the idea I could be possibly sleeping?"

"Ah…well…just wanted to inform you that we'll be staying overnight. We thought it was too tiresome to come back at this time."

"So you decided to make a phone call instead. _Very sensible_."

"Eeehm… just to say that we'll be back at noon latest. Is that alright?"

"Must be, mustn't it? So Marty, sleep we.., no actually – enjoy yourself!"

"But Aunty Jo…" He was cut short by her laughter, and then she hung up.

In the meantime he had arrived at the door just to find that Louisa still had the key card. Bugger!

He carefully knocked on the door. No reaction. He quietly called out for her. At last, Louisa, still in her evening dress, opened the door. She gasped when she saw lover boy with a single red rose and two glasses in one hand , and a bottle of champagne in the other. Martin saw the look on her face and explained sheepishly: "I thought…to…celebrate? Don't you think?"

"Why don't you come in first?" She turned around and he followed her in. After he deposited his load on the bedside table, he realised that Louisa was staring at him.

"What?"

"You know Martin, from all of your outfits this one is my second-favourite."

Martin was a bit bashful about the compliment. In his book it was the man that paid the compliment to the woman. He still didn't feel comfortable the other way around.

"Eeeh…what's your favourite then?"

Louisa pulled him close and whispered into his ear "I'll show you later."

"But Louisa. In case you haven't noticed. We've got absolutely no luggage at all. How can you possibly…" Louisa's knowing look finally allowed the penny to drop.

"Oh!"

"Yes, Martin…oh." Encouraged by this, Martin wanted to kiss her neck, but Louisa escaped his attempt, much to his disappointment.

"Martin, you _must_ see this!" She exclaimed while she disappeared into another room. Martin followed unwillingly. He was even more puzzled, when he realised that she had led him into the bathroom. What could possibly be interesting in a bathroom?

Louisa stopped and in a big gesture she pointed toward the bath. "Just look at this!"

"A bathtub. So?"

"Actually, it's a whirlpool." Martin was still unimpressed. Louisa realised she had to be more specific. She came towards him, stroked his chest and purred "Maybe we could..:"

"Oh no, Louisa. You know well that I always take a shower. It is favourable, really. Far more hygienic than lying in this dirty water."

"It's not just about cleaning yourself, you know?" Martin looked puzzled, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh Martin!" Louisa exclaimed in desperation. He could be annoyingly clueless at times. "Let's start slowly. What do you do to take a bath?"

"I never do..:" Martin started to protest.

"Yeah, I know." Louisa cut him short. "But in principle."

"You get into that bloody thing!" Martin didn't know what she was up to and slowly grew impatient.

"And before you do that?" Louisa still tried to lure him.

"You take off…Oh no Louisa, you can't possibly suggest? In _that_ thing?"

Now that he finally got the idea, Louisa approached Martin slowly, starting to stroke him in all the probable and improbable places, and whispered luringly: "So you've never heard? Whirlpools have quite a reputation. And as we wouldn't have a chance normally – why not just try it? Just this once?" By now Louisa had already started to remove his clothing slowly. "If you don't like it, we can still go to bed. But to celebrate…" She had already removed his shirt, stroking his chest and starting to kiss it. Her tongue driving him crazy, but suddenly Martin regained some control: "Wait! Just a minute!" and with that he stormed out of the bathroom.

Louisa was disappointed and was ready to give up. When she was about to go into the bedroom herself, Martin was rushing back – carrying champagne and glasses.

"I've just put the sign on the door. We don't want to be…disturbed?"

"_Very_ thoughtful of you." Now she didn't protest when he started to kiss her shoulders. They took it very slowly, enjoying the whole process of getting ready for the bath. Then Louisa first went into the whirlpool – she had checked out how to handle it while Martin had disappeared to reception – and dragged him by the hand into it, too. When Martin went in, he jumped when he felt the bubbles. "Blimey!" And as Louisa laughed he added: "Bubbles." He obviously felt uncomfortable but tried to find a comfortable position, as Louisa seemed to enjoy it. Then he got the champagne, and much to her surprise filled both glasses.

"You drink champagne?"

"On this very special occasion – just a mouthful won't do me too much harm."

"Cheers."

"To a _very happy_ New Year."

Louisa tried to prove to Martin the pleasures of the whirlpool, because she was quite enjoying it herself. However, Martin couldn't get completely in the mood. After some time, Louisa could not blame him for not trying, he started to lecture about the effect that too much exposure to water and the enclosed detergents had on the skin. Louisa had to realise that she wasn't going to get anywhere with Martin this way. So she got out of the whirlpool, picking up the hotel's bath towel and waited for Martin to get out and then rubbed him dry – slowly and sensually. That was more like it. Being ready for bed now, he took the towel from Louisa and enclosed her in his embrace, wrapping the towel around her. She took the opportunity to kiss him soundly and immediately felt the effect of her ministrations pressing against her belly. Now he was getting into the mood.

Still kissing they tumbled into the bedroom. Before they fell onto the bed, Martin's habitual suspicion took over. He broke away and declared breathlessly, that he would _just check_. So he bent over to check if the bed was clean. Louisa couldn't resist the temptation and grabbed his protruding bottom with both hands, kneading it firmly. Martin groaned and finally slumped into the bed. Quickly he turned around to take Louisa firmly into his arms. His lips travelled over her body, sending waves of sensations through it. He had to admit, that he also preferred this outfit of hers, although she was still wearing a solid rock on her finger. He was sporting something rock solid, too. Furthermore, Louisa had insisted that he should leave one thing of his suit on – the bow tie. She found it quite amusing seeing him with nothing but his soft skin and this symbol of formal dressing.

He tried to take things slowly and enjoy the slow, sensual lovemaking. When he was finally atop of her, Louisa giggled: "Here comes the groom!" And so he did.

When they finally cuddled together, satisfied and happy in each others embrace, Louisa said: "So shall I enquire about the church?"

"Actually, Louisa…"

"Second thoughts?"

"No, not at all. But…Do we have to get married in that ghastly church?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just remember the last time. The whole village was having a ball, except us."

"I don't know. I wasn't at church, and you neither, if I recall correctly."

"That's not what I mean." Martin answered guiltily. "But shouldn't that day be all about us?"

"But the village will be furious."

"The village! Always this blasted village! What about us!"

"Martin, we are both far too prominent figures in the village to ignore their needs. Besides, I don't want to infuriate them, even if I know that you wouldn't mind."

"Can't we compromise?"

"How?"

"Let's say we get married in private, just the four of us…"

"Four?"

"We have to take Peter and Aunty Joan, don't you think?"

"Oh, sure."

"…and then I promise I will grit my teeth and we can show ourselves to the village, just as you like. I just would prefer this special day to belong to us. Alone."

Louisa thought about it, still stroking his chest and feeling so damn comfortable in his arms.

"Maybe that'll work. But you won't find any excuses for not showing up at our village wedding party!"

"Promise, but I can't guarantee to be chatty."

"And if you're just standing in a corner stiff as a broomstick. You'll be present the whole time."

He nodded. Actually he had hoped to show up and then disappear at the first chance.

"So where would you like to go then?" Louisa inquired. He seemed to have planned everything already, but now she was mistaken.

"Don't know. I thought maybe somewhere like this. There are many houses doing weddings. And if a hotel is attached, we can go on honeymoon right away."

"You forgot Joan and Peter."

"They can share one room, we take another – the honeymoon suite maybe? Then we can spend some time together, and some on our own." He smiled.

Louisa thought about it. For her, marrying would always mean to walk down the aisle in front of the whole village in their well-known church. However, considering this alternative in her head, she had to admit that it didn't sound too bad. Actually, it sounded pretty good.

"So when do you want to _tie the knot_."

"In May, perhaps? The last May bank holiday weekend, maybe?"

"You old romantic!" Louisa exclaimed. "What did you say when you came back? That you wouldn't be romantic?"

"I researched a bit about what people find romantic. I'm not sure, but maybe I can see the pattern."

"I'd say you certainly do!" She cuddled even closer, kissing his chest. Looking upwards at him, she stated: "I'm really glad that you are such a good student."

Slowly they both fell asleep.

The next morning Martin had to face a problem. Louisa and he just had their evening clothes with them, but they couldn't possible go down for breakfast like that. While he was wracking his brain what to do, Louisa started to wake up. Louisa sensed that Martin was uneasy. When he filled her in on the problem, she just rolled her eyes. How can such an intelligent man be at a loss with such a simple _problem_? Louisa needed just two words to solve this: room service!

Martin was grateful for her help, and rang reception at once. So the couple had a wonderful, rather underdressed breakfast in their room.

_To be continued…_


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Months later.

Martin was sitting in his hotel room. He tried to analyse his feelings. He could hardly understand himself, why he felt the way he did. Was there any logical explanation? No. If you looked at it in the cold light of reason, there was no logical explanation whatsoever. But the light of reason was dimming. Fact was, he had to force himself to sit quietly even for a couple of minutes. When he didn't pay attention to his behaviour, he would again pace the room up and down. That didn't help either.

He thought back a couple of years when he had been in similar circumstances, but had acted and felt so completely different. There would have been no chance today that he could have held surgery even for an hour, and definitely not until one-and-a-half hours before that fateful moment. Now he even had to get through an entire night and hadn't the slightest idea how. He had been acting really odd back then. Not even all the catastrophes that were occurring trying to ruin the day for him had made him nervous. He had felt worried, but was always able to function properly. He even managed to solve all the problems that were thrown in his way with relative ease, just to tumble at the last hurdle.

He couldn't keep his own doubts in check.

Martin stood up again and paced the room once more, wringing his hands, going over to the drawer to check if the box was still there. He had held it in his hands dozens of times during the day, making sure that he hadn't forgotten it at Aunty Joan's farm.

Back then he had far more reason to be nervous. But he hadn't been. Maybe he should have been and it would have turned out alright. Maybe not. His life would have changed completely the last time. This time everything was relatively settled. Just a formality, really. But he couldn't get the lump out of his stomach. He hadn't even eaten anything today as the thought alone made him retch.

His best man had patiently stayed with him until about half an hour ago. He had smiled at Martin's impatience. He had been glad to see him like this. He had been a huge moral support and in making him talk about the future Mrs. Ellingham he had even succeeded to set Martin's mind at ease. Now Martin was alone and the thoughts were racing into all directions.

He couldn't believe the loneliness he felt. Louisa had insisted that they should stay at separate accommodations for the last three nights before the wedding, as she wanted to do the preparations without Martin seeing everything. He couldn't see why. He knew she would look stunning. She always did. So why the mystery? Louisa hadn't given in, so he stayed at his aunt's farm for two nights, before driving down to the stately home which had been turned into a hotel and where the wedding would take place. For one night, each of them had a single room, before they would spend three days – and nights – in the honeymoon suite.

No one in Portwenn knew that they were about to be married, so when Martin had moved to Aunty Joan's farm malicious rumours were spread that Louisa had thrown him out. He had been given far too many triumphant looks by the village folk. Only Roger Fenn and Al Large had come to him with the offer to talk things through and maybe put things right. Maybe there was still hope. He simply brushed them aside by telling them "Time will tell." He hoped he knew what the future had in store. He would have to talk to them after their return, as he had been deeply moved by their efforts. It felt good to have someone on your side.

Louisa's experiences during those days had been different. Some of the parents and staff even had congratulated her that she finally had come to her senses. She had told them to 'Get lost'. Martin would never understand why Louisa always got away with it. They all just assumed that '_the poor thing'_ was too upset. Only Mrs. Tishell had insulted her for dumping the poor Doc. The pharmacist had been genuinely puzzled when Louisa had just smiled at her.

Louisa had come down to the farm every day, so that he could spend some time with her and Peter. It simply wasn't enough. He couldn't sleep during the night. The bed was too empty. He tried to imagine how he could have managed for so many years. After all, he had slept on his own for almost all of his life, almost five decades – almost half a century. It was only barely a year that he had the privilege to share the bed with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He must have managed to sleep during all those years. But how? He didn't know where to put his arms, as he couldn't wrap them around a warm body. He missed the weight of a head resting on his chest. It felt so empty.

They had gone down to the hotel on their own and wouldn't meet until the ceremony. Aunty Joan and his best man were in constant contact to make sure they didn't bump into each other by accident. The ceremony would take place tomorrow at three p.m. He didn't know how to survive.

His best man had been a huge help during the day. He would also be a good support in getting ready for the big moment. Looking down at his shaking hands, Martin wasn't even sure if he'd be able to dress himself properly. He was a nervous wreck.

When Louisa and Martin started to discuss the wedding, Martin immediately had someone in mind to be his best man. He asked Louisa if it would be alright to ask him. Louisa in her usual carefree way assured him that asking for a favour never hurt anyone. There was always the possibility of them turning it down. So he had sent an email to Dr. Whitby to ask him if he would act as his best man. The cost of transport and a long weekend at the venue would certainly be paid for.

Since Martin had left London they had emailed each other regularly. Even when they didn't discuss problems, it gave Martin a feeling of security. Besides, he had come to appreciate Whitby. He was the closest thing to a friend that Martin had ever had. He didn't like the thought of not knowing at all what he was doing. When Martin had announced that he was going to quit at the Imperial, only Whitby knew the real reason. He was sad to see Martin go, but glad at the same time that Martin had found a place to go home to.

When Whitby had received the request he didn't have to think twice. He gladly accepted. He was so glad that there was a happy ending for Martin.

Whitby had come down by train and Martin had picked him up on his way to the hotel. After Whitby had checked in, he had joined Martin in his room to give him some much needed moral support. Whitby had been glad when he discovered that there were no doubts in Martin's mind whatsoever. He also had no doubt that his beloved Louisa would show up. So Martin wasn't worried, but just nervous. Whitby had just excused himself to go to the restaurant. He was hungry after the journey, but Martin was sure he couldn't stomach anything at all.

When Whitby came back after an exquisite meal, he found Martin still pacing up and down the room.

"Stop being so nervous, everything will be alright."

"I know. What time is it?"

"Shortly past nine."

"You're sure? Nothing wrong with your watch? It was already nine when I last had a look."

"You still have a few hours to kill. Anything you want to do? Sort of a stag night?"

Martin gave him an angry look. "Don't be funny."

"You have to get your mind off your wedding. There is nothing you can do right now?"

"That's exactly what's bothering me. Maybe I'll call Louisa?" He tried to grab his mobile, but Whitby stopped him.

"From what I understand she wants you to be separated for the night before the wedding. Just accept that."

"Nights."

"What."

"Nights. _Three_ nights."

"What are three nights with the prospect of spending a life together? At your silver wedding you'll be probably glad to get away for some nights."

"Doubt it." Martin slumped down on the chair, checking again if the box with the wedding ring was still in the drawer and if the ring was still in it. Then he got up again.

Whitby watched with a smile. "So how is she? I'm really curious to meet her tomorrow. Strange to meet someone for the first time at her wedding."

Martin sat down, wringing his hands, eyes glowing when he started to praise her and painting their life together in the brightest colours. Suddenly he jumped up again, running his hand through his hair, exclaiming: "Bloody hell, never felt worse. My bloody nerves."

"Really? I've seen you worse. Actually, I'm quite happy to see you like this, Ellingham."

Martin stopped in his motions, turned towards Whitby. The night that brought them together came to his mind. "Martin."

"What?"

"Call me Martin." Actually, it was the first time he ever offered to someone to call him by his Christian name. Many did, because in this country it was an unnerving habit. Except for Joan and Louisa, he never liked anyone to call him by his first name.

"Thanks, Martin. I'm Benjamin." A quick smile between the two sealed it.

"Benjamin, were you also so bloody nervous before your wedding?"

"It was bad. Maybe not quite as bad, but I think that's how it should be."

"I wasn't nervous before our first attempt to get married."

"And look how it ended. Take it as a good sign."

"The worst thing is that there is logically no reason. I'm so sure that nothing will go wrong. I can't wait to tie the knot, and I'm certain that Louisa will turn up. So why am I so bloody nervous?" He had sat down during the conversation, but jumped up again. Whitby watched with a smile.

"Tomorrow it will be over. Concentrate on that."

"But time passes so bloody slowly!" He looked at his watch. "There must be something wrong with this wretched thing!"

Martin sat down on his bed, running his hands nervously over the sheets.

"You miss her?"

"Isn't it silly? I mean, I slept on my own for almost 50 years. When I left boarding school I had sworn to myself never to share a bedroom with anyone ever again. And now, after barely a year with Louisa, with just six months living together, really, I can't imagine being on my own again. I simply can't sleep when I don't feel her. Isn't it absurd?"

"It makes perfect sense. You love her."

Martin sighed. "She brings out something in me I never knew existed. Emotions I heard about during the lectures on psychological diseases and conditions. Symptoms brought up by emotions running wild. I always thought it was nonsense. I _never_ thought anyone could make me feel that I would rather die than be away from her. Not even for one bloody night." He hit the mattress with his hand and jumped up again.

Whitby stayed with his friend until twoish. Then he excused himself. He had to get some sleep. He knew that he would leave Martin to a sleepless night on his own. Whitby assumed that another sleepless night would follow. But this time he didn't feel sorry for Martin. He was thoroughly glad. Furthermore, he was proud of what Martin had achieved since they knew each other. It was a transformation, as if a different person was standing there. A far happier, more human person. Someone with a future, not just the burdens of the past. A future he couldn't await to commence.

Whitby would have a short night, too, as he had promised to join Martin for breakfast at the earliest possible time around seven.

Whitby entered the breakfast room right on time. One wreck of a man was already sitting at one of the tables. All the other tables were still empty.

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

Martin shook his head.

"You look like it. And here's some good advice – shave before the ceremony starts."

"I thought about going to the salon they have here." Martin held his hand into the air. It shook visibly. "I don't trust myself using the blade. After all, I want to be able to show up."

Whitby laughed. "Good idea. It wouldn't be appropriate to make her a widow before she's even married." Martin glowered at him. Before he could say something nasty, the waiter turned up.

"Cooked or continental?"

"Oh, full cooked for me." Whitby declared. "What do you have?" The waiter listed several delicious items, but Martin cringed just hearing their name.

"Eggs poached, two rashers of bacon, sausage, tomatoes, beans and mushrooms. Brown toast. Tea." Whitby gave his order. The waiter turned towards Martin.

"And you, Sir?"

"Coffee, black."

"Come on, Martin. You have to eat something. We don't want you to pass out due to low blood sugar?"

"Toast, white."

"That'll be all?" The waiter asked.

"Yes."

Whitby patted Martin's hand. "Just eight more hours to go. No more lonely nights from now on!"

Martin looked over nervously. His impatience had subsided. He didn't feel the urge anymore to pace every room at length. He was far too worn out for it.

"Judging by the last eight hours, it will be a _very_ long time!"

"Well, today you have at least a couple of hours to spend for preparation. Gives you something to do. Keeps you from measuring every room over and over again."

"I wonder how she's doing?"

"You'll find out at the ceremony. Try to keep it off your mind. It doesn't help."

"I bloody can't. The worst is that I have thoughts I find most inappropriate."

"Oh, you think what will happen _after_ the wedding."

"I always thought I wasn't one of those dirty old men. I have my doubts now."

"Nothing dirty about it. It's the only reason to get married, really. To sleep with the same woman for the rest of your life."

"There's more to it, as you well know."

"The rest is just part of the bargain. In old times the only reason they got married so early was because extramarital relationships were forbidden. So if a woman wanted to _have some fun_ she had to loose her virginity in a lawful state. What she did afterwards was pretty much her own business. Before DNA-tests were possible, it was difficult to prove that someone was the definite father. Except of course he copies himself during the reproduction as you have."

"Meaning?"

"Remember, you showed me some photos of your son. You don't need a DNA-test."

"Right. I see."

Whitby started a lecture on different wedding rites and views of the matrimonial state and how they altered during the centuries. Martin was neither interested in Ancient Greek habits of being introduced to the art of love by other men – disgusting, no wonder the culture was doomed to be extinct – nor in cultures where the status of a man was counted in the amount of wives he had. Martin just wished to be married to this one woman, and then never have to go through a day like this ever again. Thankfully Whitby's lecture was cut short by the arrival of the breakfast. A huge plate filled with all different kinds of treats for Whitby and a rather sad and lonely looking piece of toast for Martin. Martin looked over with disgust as Whitby tucked away his breakfast. As soon as Martin had managed to get the toast down he addressed his friend.

"Do you mind if I wait for you outside? Just seeing this…" He distorted his face in disgust.

"You're sure? I may be some time. I won't hurry. We have all the time in the world."

"Outside." And Martin walked off.

Whitby didn't hurry. He enjoyed his breakfast to the full. He just had some yoghurt with fruits hovering on his spoon, when his mobile beeped. Joan had sent an SMS to enquire if it was safe to have breakfast. Whitby answered that 15 minutes more would be great, then he walked out to look for Ellingham. He was nowhere to be seen. He asked several of the staff, far more busy now as the breakfast room was well filled. Obviously Martin had waited there until a couple of minutes ago and then had dashed off. Whitby looked around and suddenly Martin re-appeared from the gents, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Don't tell me your breakfast is gone already."

"Bloody hell. I feel awful."

"You look like it. We have plenty of time. Why don't you go back to your room and rest?"

"I know every square inch there, and I doubt it would be much different now."

"Let's see. Go ahead."

Martin walked off to the room. Whitby contacted Joan about the time Louisa had her appointment with the hairdresser, and then he ordered a fennel tea. He carried it to Martin's room.

"Look, it's only 8:30. If you start to get ready at noon that'll leave you with plenty of time. I fixed an appointment for your shave at 12 sharp. Now drink this."

"What's that?"

"Fennel tea. Helps with a nervous stomach."

"I know that."

"Sure. Sorry. So drink that and then have a rest. I don't want to sound discouraging, but you look awful."

Martin looked worried and weary towards Whitby. "We'll make an odd couple. The beauty and the beast."

"Well, unless you rest now. There's nothing wrong with you that three hours sleep can't fix."

Martin drank the tea. It really had a relaxing effect. Then he laid down and even managed two hours of sleep. As soon as Whitby knocked carefully at the door, Martin sat upright in bed.

"Come in."

"Ah. Looking better already. When that stubble's off, you're almost presentable."

Whitby accompanied Martin to the salon for a little trim and a shave. Whitby had a bit of small talk with the staff and mentioned that his friend was about to be married this afternoon.

"That's interesting. We had a lovely lady here this morning who was also preparing for her wedding. Gorgeous dark hair."

Martin gulped and grew more nervous yet again. Whitby kept on talking.

"That sounds like her."

"So _he's _the groom?" The hairdresser looked doubtfully at that miserable old git sitting in the chair.

"Anything wrong with that?" Snapped Martin. "I hope you're finished. Haven't got all day."

Whitby smiled. Ellingham's social skills still left some room for improvement.

Soon Martin was ready and paid. Whitby tried to reassure him that he looked ready for the part now. Just get dressed and ready to go. So Whitby disappeared into his room to get dressed. Martin went into the single room for the last time to make himself presentable.

Louisa and he had agreed that as it was a rather posh venue, they would try to dress to the part. So Martin had bought himself a cut, complete with grey top hat. The last two hours of his life as a bachelor had begun.

When Whitby, also in a cut he had used on many similar occasions before, knocked on the door, Martin was struggling with his Ascot tie. The sleeves of the shirt still open.

A rather enervated voice ordered Whitby in.

"Relax. Take your time. You have still more than an hour-and-a-half to go."

"And that's what I will need with this bloody… Hard to believe that these clumsy hands belong to a surgeon. If I had always worked like this, I should have opened a sideline as an undertaker." Martin was in despair now, throwing the offending garment onto the dressing table. He held onto the table with both hands and stretched against it. He tried to concentrate on his breathing. After a while he turned his head towards Whitby, still leaning against the dressing table. "This is going to be the longest hour of my whole damned life. I don't know why anyone wants to get married."

Whitby put his hand on Martin's shoulder and squeezed it. "Not everyone is taking it as seriously as you do. Try to look forward to it. Don't just dread the moment."

"Don't you think I've tried? And I _am_ looking forwards to it. I can't wait to put this ring onto Louisa's finger – if I succeed in doing so, that is. At the moment I'm stuck with the cuff links and the tie." Martin looked over to the table where the offending articles innocently lay.

"May I help you?"

"I should have learned how to dress myself by now, but we don't have all day." Martin sat down on the edge of the bed, while Whitby gathered the tie. Slowly he walked over. He tried to appear as calm and relaxed as possible, hoping that some of it would rub off on Martin.

Martin looked up at Whitby while he draped the tie around his neck. Then he put the tie pin on. Martin stretched out his hands, so that his friend could put in the cuff links. His hands were shaking visibly and Martin looked at them with a sorry sigh.

"Just look at that. Have you ever seen someone in such a sorry state?"

"I sure have and I've seen worse. At least I can risk the prognosis that your tremors will subside within the next – " Whitby had a look at the clock, which showed that it was about a quarter to two " – two hours. So no need to worry."

"I really wanted to be at my best today so that Louisa can remember this day fondly. But I can't even get that right, it seems."

"Come on, get up. Put your coat and top hat on and let me inspect you." Martin did as he was told. Once the picture was complete he looked simply dashing. Whitby whistled. "Wow! I attended quite a few weddings, but I guess today will be the one with the most elegant couple I ever visited."

"Don't be ridiculous." Martin growled, putting his hat down again. Before he had the chance to sit down, Whitby stopped him.

"I'm serious. I mean, I just know your bride from a couple of photos, but she seems to be stunning."

"I wasn't worried about her."

"Maybe you didn't look at you properly. Come here and bend down a bit. I'll arrange that hat properly for you." Hesitantly Martin walked over. Whitby placed the hat once again on his head, brushing his hair a bit with his hands to match it with the top hat. He straightened the tie and, to Martins surprise, put a buttonhole into his lapel. Then he gave the suit a quick brush.

"Now stand straight and try to look a bit less scared."

Again, Martin did as he had been told. "Come on, Martin! A bit less stern. It should be the happiest day of your life!"

"Then I don't want to live through my most miserable one."

"I guess you have, and you mastered that perfectly well. I am really astonished at what you have achieved in such a short time. You certainly will survive this day. And now, if you can, just be a bit less glum."

Martin took a deep breath, straightened up and decided to try to imagine how Louisa might look like. Sure enough it brought a little smile onto his lips.

"That's it – look at the mirror and then tell me you don't look good and I'll show you a liar."

"Just hope that Louisa will think so, too. After all, it's not you whom I want to marry."

"Well, fifty minutes to go. The countdown of your freedom."

"Rather the last minutes of my loneliness. I was far too long on my own to appreciate it."

_To be continued…_


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Half an hour before the ceremony started Whitby and Martin went towards the old chapel of the house where Martin could finally end his years of loneliness. When reaching the destination, he again started to pace up and down the floor. Whitby quickly informed Joan that they had arrived at the chapel. At a quarter to three they were allowed to go in. There had been another ceremony and a rather dull but happy looking couple was tumbling out of the chapel with a whole bunch of friends and relatives. They tumbled all over the place. One of the moronic wedding guests stumbled and fell into Martin.

"I must say! Can't you be careful, you flatfooted imbecile? Clearly drunk. Drinking during daytime is a strong indication for alcoholism!"

Whitby urged Martin to leave it alone. "They are celebrating a wedding, after all. Let them have some fun."

"Ruining your liver and pestering others is not my idea of fun."

The cheery gathering had noticed the little argument, and started to murmur among themselves "Oh look at that stiff shirt…he's not going to?…the poor woman…must be desperate…who would ever want…"

Martin straightened up, glowered into their direction, towering over the whole group. "Really, I must say!" He wanted to start to reply, when Whitby took him by the arm and ordering, not asking him, to leave it. Just to ignore them and go into the chapel.

Although the chapel had been turned into a venue for weddings, it wouldn't be a religious service. Whitby manoeuvred Martin into the room, where they were greeted by the registrar. She turned to Whitby.

"So you are the groom?" Martin was furious.

"What do you mean! Of course not! Don't you have any eyes in your head, he already wears a wedding ring. How many people do you marry who are already married? Maybe I should..:" He was cut short by Whitby.

"It's OK, calm down." Towards the registrar he apologized "My friend's nerves are a bit strained. Actually, I'm his best man."

"Oh?" There was astonishment in the voice of the registrar. Martin's doubts were raised again. Obviously no one except Louisa could imagine him as a husband. These people didn't even know him, but it seemed to be written all over him. What if they were right? What the heck! Even if they were all right, it only counted that Louisa and he could see themselves as a couple. All the others could bugger off.

Martin was cut short from his thoughts when the door to the chapel opened and Joan and Peter entered.

"Oh Marty! I can't believe it!"

"Aunty Joan." Martin squirmed a bit. Whitby watched the scene. He had never met any of Martin's family. His aunt couldn't be more different. Very down-to-earth, very resolute and her whole body language oozed self-esteem and a fighting spirit. For her age, she was very energetic.

Joan placed her grandnephew in the pews. Then walked towards her nephew, forcing him into a hug. Stiffly Martin hugged her, but looked over at the door.

"Where's Louisa?"

"Don't you worry. She's here. She's just waiting for the ceremony to start. It's still five minutes to go. Even though it's just a civil service, she wants to walk towards you down the aisle." She pushed him back a bit. "Let me look at you! You're nervous."

"Aunty Joan!"

"That's alright. Perfectly normal." She peeked at her watch. "Oh heaven, I had better join Peter. Any second now. And you stop looking so glum!" She gave his arm a short squeeze.

The registrar looked at the watch. "Are we ready?" Martin turned towards her, cleared his throat. "The bride?"

He hardly said it when he heard the door squeak. Quickly he turned towards it. His jaw dropped down. He realised that he was gawping like a complete idiot, but his eyes were simply fixed on her. She looked absolutely stunning. He heard nothing but his blood racing in his ears. He was sure that _everyone_ must notice his heartbeat as it was pounding against his chest. Slowly, ever so slowly she approached him, staring into his eyes all the way. Her veil started at the back of her head, her face framed by long strands of hair elegantly curled, swaying lightly. The rest of her hair seemed to be put up. He imagined how her lovely neck must be exposed and he couldn't help thinking of her lovely nape. She wore a shoulder-free, very elegant dress, curving slightly to show her cleavage. He was fixed to the spot. He gulped. This beauty would be all his? It was hard to believe. Her eyes were fixed upon him. She smiled towards him. Now she had joined him.

"Louisa?" He said lowly, his deep voice slightly shaking. His timbre made her shiver. She could hear his desire in the way he had uttered her name. He had to compose himself. He felt the urge to touch the enticing strand of hair. Somewhere, far away, he could hear someone clearing his throat, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Then he felt someone touching his arm firmly. Then Whitby's voice close to his ear "Martin, they want to start the ceremony."

He had to tear himself away from this beauty before his eyes. Louisa still smiled towards him. Martin turned around to face the registrar. He followed the whole ceremony in sort of a daze. He still found it amazing that due to their words today they would be linked together for life. Making his vow, Martin had to concentrate hard that his voice didn't crack. Looking down to Louisa he noticed that she was touched by that, realising that he even managed an insecure smile. He really had not much to say, but those words, and especially the all defining "I do." were so hard to say. Louisa sounded far more cheerful and confident. He looked in awe at her, she seemed to be so happy.

Finally the moment came when they had to exchange rings. She held her hand towards him, astonishingly steady. His own hand was shaking and at the first attempt, he couldn't place the ring on her finger. "I'm sorry, Louisa." He whispered his apologies.

"Don't worry." She gently assured him, touching his hand, steadying it with her opposite hand. "Just try again." With her hand giving him strength he finally managed to slip the ring onto her hand. His hand lingered on her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, before he cleared his throat but with unexpected certainty said quite strongly: "With this ring I thee wed." Louisa smiled broadly at him, but had to withdraw her hand vigorously as he didn't want to let it go. She took his ring, held the hand he presented gently. His big, strong hand still trembling a bit.

Without any problem she placed the ring on his finger, and looking him straight in the eye, she declared firmly: "With this ring I thee wed." She could see that his eyes were glistening. He fought hard to hold back the tears swelling up in his eyes.

Somewhere the words were spoken "With this, I declare you to be Man and Wife." Martin kept on staring at Louisa. "Is this it?" He found himself asking incredulously. The registrar said in business mode: "You may kiss the bride."

Martin still stared into her eyes and suddenly he found his hand raising to her head and twirling the mesmerizing curl around his finger. Louisa smiled as she could see that her choice of style had the desired effect. She also noted that he was frozen in his action, not quite aware that he was holding everyone up.

"Martin, don't you want to?" Louisa's voice was the only thing that could reach him right now, so puzzled he asked back.

"Want what?"

"Kiss the bride." Louisa smiled at him.

"Oh, right. I see." He looked around uncomfortably. He had never kissed or touched Louisa in front of the eyes of others. He saw Joan happily beaming at them, hands clasped together in front of her face. He saw Peter, letting his feet dangle, looking rather bored in his fine suit. The first time he saw his son in something else but his carefree style. He looked very cute. Martin saw Whitby, and it seemed he was even proud of him. He didn't look towards the registrar as he had come to dislike her immediately. Then he turned towards Louisa again, delicately placing his hand under her chin, lifting it up and placing a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. When he broke apart, Louisa grabbed his neck and drew him close again, kissing him back. Then she slung her arms around his neck. "Oh, Martin!" She joyfully exclaimed.

The business-like voice of the registrar disturbed the bliss of the happy couple. "I still need you to sign the certificate." They turned to complete this formality, Martin quickly scribbling his signature, handing the pen over to Louisa. She bent down to place her signature, but stopped her motions. Looking upwards to the registrar, she asked: "What name?"

"Ellingham, you're already Mrs. Ellingham." Martin blushed and started to finger incredulously at his wedding ring. It sounded so good. Louisa cheerfully responded. "Oh, already." and beamed over to Martin. It was very strange to do this signature for the first time. It still took more time than her usual '_Louisa Glasson'_. But '_Glasson' _was a thing of the past, a chapter closed.

Putting the pen down, she grabbed his arm and both walked down the aisle. The wedding party consisting of three people followed. Joan sniffed and Whitby handed her a handkerchief.

In front of the chapel the couple stopped.

"Martin, are you happy now?"

"I still feel a bit numb. I still can't believe it."

"It's signed and sealed. No way back now."

"No! I don't want to go back. It's just so unlikely."

She pecked his cheek.

"Oh Louisa, you're so incredibly beautiful." He played again with the curled hair framing her face.

"Glad you like it. I had to sit there for almost two hours."

"Really?" He gently slid his hand under her veil to caress her nape and feeling the pushed up hair. "It was worth it."

She gently stroked his chest. "You're looking great, too. Being so elegant becomes you."

He kept on playing with her lock. She gently stroked his hair.

"Speaking of elegance, the photographer is waiting." Louisa reminded her new husband.

Martin had not been happy about the idea of wedding photos, but Louisa had insisted. She wanted to have a reminder of that day.

"Right. Let's get it done."

"Can you do me a favour?"

"What?"

"Try to enjoy it. Try to look happy. I know, it doesn't mean anything to you, but I'm really looking forward to having these photos taken. Besides, we will never look as elegant ever again. I want to have a picture of you looking as you do now, so incredibly elegant, but not with a grumpy face."

"I'll try, but I can't promise. I hate my photo being taken."

"Try to forget the camera. Concentrate on me." Martin gulped and nodded.

Before he could answer, a packed, busy-looking man in his early thirties rushed up the stairs.

"Hello, I'm Andy. Are you the two lovebirds?"

"What?" Martin glowered at him, disliking the familiarity of the way he was addressed.

"Martin, that's the photographer." She turned towards the man. "We are the couple. To be honest, we'd like to get it over and done with. So where do we start?" She thought it was better to do it as quickly as possible, before Martin got into a foul mood.

"Very elegant. Well, let's see. We can go out into the park. Lovely light today. I don't know what style you prefer. More romantic photos are better done in the park. If you'd like it more classy, there are a couple of rooms we can use in here. I have some basic equipment for lighting with me that would do."

"Martin, what do you think – classy or romantic?"

"I'm not sure I can deliver any of it."

"Oh, I say you're perfectly cast for both."

"You have to decide."

Louisa turned to the photographer again. "I don't know. Both ideas appeal to me. What do you suggest?"

"Both perfectly possible. I have several ideas. It's very inspiring to have such a beautiful bride." Martin glowered at him.

"Can't we have a bit of both, don't you think?"

"Depends on how much you're willing to invest."

For the first time Martin took part in the negotiation. "That should be of no concern. Whatever makes her happy."

Louisa turned to Martin. "That's sweet of you, but you do realise that you have to pose even longer?"

"It crossed my mind, but you're so eager and it is just once in our life – I'm sure I will survive."

"You're such a darling!" Louisa clung to Martin's neck.

The photographer disturbed the little outbreak of emotions. "Good. I suggest we start in the house."

Joan shuffled forwards. "Marty, Louisa, we'll leave you to it. We'll have a drink on you and wait near the restaurant for the two of you, to have our little reception."

The following time was very tough for Martin. He didn't like being arranged. He never was good in doing what he was told. Sometimes he didn't even understand what was expected of him, especially when the photographer was asking for certain expressions. Louisa did her best to lighten the atmosphere. To be honest, she was having a ball. She loved her tall, elegantly dressed husband in all the different poses – standing behind her in front of the grand staircase and holding her waist, her sitting on his lap in the old library, pretending to dance closely in one of the grand reception rooms, him scooping her up, him standing behind her under a big tree with her sitting on the grass with her elegant dress draped around her, him with one knee bent in front of her at the lake.

Her favourite was a spur of the moment. For one photo he had to hold his top hat in his hand. After the shot was done, she had stepped onto the stump of a big tree, to place the top hat back onto his head with a definite tilt, with him sceptically looking upwards. The photographer had reacted immediately, capturing this moment for eternity. Although Martin was often on the verge of losing his patience, he managed to behave throughout the whole session.

Finally the photographer ran out of new ideas. He had loved the session, especially with a beautiful bride like this. Louisa was also very happy, feeling rather special being fussed about. Martin just sighed with relief that it was finally over. Louisa took over in seeing the photographer off.

"It was a lovely session, thank you."

"I will send you a CD with all the shots. You just have to give me the ID number and I will prepare the prints. I'm off then."

The photographer left them in the park. Louisa strolled slowly over to Martin, placing her arms around his neck. Gently kissing him she whispered "Thank you."

"What for?"

"You were incredibly patient. I'm very proud of you."

He squirmed a bit.

"You must have hated it."

"Not my idea of fun."

"Wait until you see the prints. You were amazing."

"Whatever makes you happy." He bent down to kiss her deeply.

"As nice as this is – we have guests at our wedding reception."

"Actually, I'm not very hungry."

"Come on. We have ordered a wonderful meal for the five of us. Furthermore, you can't live on love alone. After the sweets we can see what we can do about your appetite."

His heart missed a beat. He gulped at the prospect. Louisa saw his tension and laughed lightly. "Don't worry, you will have your fun too today. But first we have to join our guests."

She took him by the hand and they strolled towards the reception. They had booked the smallest room for parties, one of the former drawing rooms, to be on their own and not have their meal in the usual restaurant. The rest of the wedding party had already gathered around the round table and greeted the couple with glasses of champagne. When Joan handed one glass over to Martin he declined it as usual.

"Come on, I know you make exceptions for very special occasions. I guess this is special enough. Even if you just take a sip." Louisa succeeded in persuading Martin.

Then all sat down, Martin and Louisa next to each other, Joan next to Martin and Whitby next to Louisa, Peter framed by Whitby and Joan. When they had arranged themselves, Whitby got up, knocking against his glass. He had prepared a best man's speech, pointing out how privileged he felt that he not only met Martin as many had, but actually came to know him as he only allowed a few people to know him. That he was proud of this – yes, friendship. That he had the fortune to see how devoted he was to this love of his and that he could just say that it was the best thing that could ever happen to him. That he was glad that he had finally met Louisa, whom he had heard so much about. How Louisa should be glad to have such a special person at her side. That she could be sure that she would have support whenever needed now.

He elaborated how love was, in general, the most important thing in everyone's life. That human beings are social creatures, only complete when they had found someone to take responsibility for.

Louisa was very touched, especially as she could see that Martin had finally found a friend. She was pleasantly surprised meeting Whitby as he seemed a very pleasant person. Martin was glad that Whitby's speech didn't reveal too much about how important the life with Louisa was for Martin. Only Whitby knew how desperate he had been and he supposed that Whitby knew as well as Martin himself that he might have ruined his health by now if Louisa hadn't agreed to take him back. Otherwise, Martin just seemed a bit embarrassed about being the object of so much attention.

Finally Whitby stopped, inviting everyone to drink to the sake of the happy couple. Everyone cheered each other with their glasses. When they sat down again, Louisa squeezed Martin's hand. The meal had been ordered beforehand, so they just had to wait for the waiter to bring the starters. Whitby couldn't help but ask Martin: "How are you feeling now, that you're finally married?"

"Much better. Feels good." Louisa smiled proudly at him, but then it sunk it that there was obviously reason for concern.

"Weren't you feeling well, Martin?"

"Nothing, really." Whitby just smiled hearing Martin's assurance.

"You're sure?"

"I was just a bit nervous, that's all." Whitby looked over.

"Really? I wasn't nervous at all. Strange. At our first attempt I really was a wreck in the end. But maybe that's why I didn't have the guts to come. This time I was genuinely looking forward to it."

"Funny." Martin just stated.

"What's funny about it?"

Whitby stated: "I think it's interesting that you are the exact opposite, and nevertheless come to the same conclusion sometimes."

"It was a lovely wedding, don't you think, Martin?" Louisa asked.

"Good."

She noticed that Martin was extremely monosyllabic again. Obviously his mind was on something else. She just guessed what that might be.

Starters had been brought, eaten and the remains been carried away. The main course had come and gone. Louisa had a good time talking with Whitby. She found it interesting to talk to this friend of Martin's whom she had never met. It was also quite a relief to talk with someone about Martin without feeling the need to defend him. For the first time there was someone who appreciated Martin as a person.

Martin tried to keep the conversation with Joan short. She was full of good advice today, the last thing he needed. He just wanted to finish this bloody meal to be able to excuse themselves. He had been patient throughout the bloody photo shooting and he had patiently sat through two courses. Now he had reached a point where his impatience started to be hard to control.

The only other person who didn't seem to enjoy himself was Peter. He was getting bored. He didn't like the suit he had to put on. It was very uncomfortable. Furthermore, sitting around this table for hours was pretty boring. Especially as there was a huge park outside and he would love to run around and have a look what kind of animals he could find. He liked animals of all sorts. At least Aunty Joan had now turned towards him and joked around with him. She had given up on Martin when his monosyllabic answers were mostly replaced by unintelligible noises.

While waiting for the sweets, Louisa was quite surprised when she suddenly felt Martin's hand on her thigh. The table was covered with a long table cloth, so there was no chance anyone could notice. However, she had never thought he would be bold enough to start any physical contact when in public. It gave her a clue how desperately Martin wished to be alone with her. Although she knew he didn't need any further encouragement, she reached down and actually pulled her dress up, then placing Martin's hand back at the garter around her naked thigh. Doing so, she kept on innocently chatting away with Whitby. Martin sat there stiff, growing red and trying hard to compose himself. He didn't even notice that Joan looked over at him with curiosity. He didn't even notice when the dessert was served. He just drew tiny circles on Louisa's leg with his fingers. His head was racing. All the things he wanted to do with her, and then being trapped at this stupid table.

Louisa turned towards the pudding, and noticing that Martin was still staring at a fixed spot somewhere in the middle of nowhere, she decided that it would be safer to end this little game before it became too suspicious. She reached under the table to gently take his hand away, assuring him by squeezing his hand that it wasn't out of some negative feeling. Martin cleared his throat.

"Do you want to say something, Marty?" Joan asked.

Finally able to notice anything again, Martin realised that he was talked to. "What?" He uttered puzzled.

Louisa smiled. His state promised a very nice night ahead. She decided that they didn't need to stay too long after finishing the third and last course, although she was enjoying herself. Whitby turned out to be a very intelligent and funny person to talk to.

As soon as the last spoonful had been eaten, Louisa asked Martin for the time.

"So late already? Peter, I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid it's bedtime now."

"Not already, Mummy!" Peter pleaded, although he had rubbed his eyes a couple of minutes earlier.

"I'm afraid so. Tomorrow we will go and have a look around, promise. We'll have more time for you. Is it OK if Joan brings you to bed today?"

"But Mummy, what about my song?"

"Joan does the full bedtime routine, promise." She looked over to Joan for approval.

"But I like you singing to me more."

"Peter, that's very rude. Joan is doing her best and she will be hurt by your remark."

"Mmmhh."

"Say sorry, Peter."

"Sorry, Aunty Joan."

"Tomorrow, Daddy and I will read you a story and I'll sing to you. Just tonight you have to understand that we can't do it. It's a very special day for your Dad and me." She squeezed Martin's hand without a word. Peter glided from the chair.

"OK, Mum. But I get my good night kiss, don't I?"

"Of course you do. Come to Mummy." Peter came over and Louisa gave him a kiss on the cheek. Martin just patted his head. Louisa whispered towards Martin: "You'll get yours in a minute." Aloud she continued.

"Mr. Whitby, Joan has to bring Peter to bed and there wouldn't be a point really for her to come back here, as it would be getting too late for her, too. Would you mind if we excuse ourselves too?"

"Never mind me. Actually, I brought some articles down that I have to read. Last night I didn't get much of a chance." He smiled over to Martin. "I'm glad that you have nicer company than me tonight, Martin."

"Eeeehm. Sorry to have been such a nuisance."

"Not at all. I was glad to be of use. So if you'll excuse me." Whitby bowed jokingly, then turned towards Joan.

"Shall we? I suppose we're a bit in the way."

"Just a minute." Joan went over to the couple. She reached up to the reluctant Martin. "Marty, I'm so glad for you. Congratulations – and behave yourself."

"I certainly hope not!" Louisa stopped Joan. Martin blushing slightly.

"Louisa, you know what you got yourself into, you're a grown woman. Well, I wish you all the luck and take care of him."

"No congratulations for me?" Louisa asked.

"If you think so – congratulations." But saying this, Joan smiled towards her nephew and winked towards him.

"Let's go." Declared Joan as she took Peter by the hand and left the room chatting with Whitby.

Louisa quietly turned towards Martin. They looked at each other intensely for quite some time.

"Alone. At last." Louisa said, gently stroking his lapel.

"I thought you were enjoying yourself."

"Up to a degree. But it leaves room for improvement."

"Really?"

"Mr. Whitby's quite nice. Glad you met him."

"Me too."

"So what do you think about the improvements for tonight? Any ideas?"

"Actually, one or two."

"What are we still doing here, then?"

"Don't know. What about our luggage. Doesn't it have to be transferred?"

"Actually, I made Joan do it while we had our photographs taken. So there's nothing left for us to do. And it's not even nine yet. Intriguing."

Martin gulped.

"So you think..:"

"…that we should have a look at our room." He gently took her hand.

_To be continued…_


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

They found the honeymoon suite and Louisa got the key card that Joan had handed over to her during their little reception. They entered.

Just as she was about to close the door, he stopped her by grabbing the door knob.

"What is it, Martin?"

"Just before I forget…" He looked around before he found what he was looking for.

'_Do not disturb' _was now appropriately hung outside their hotel room.

Once inside Martin stopped behind the door, holding Louisa back who wanted to inspect their little refuge thoroughly.

"Can't you leave it for later?"

"If you have any better ideas?" She told him seductively. Martin was facing her, slowly taking one of her hands in both of his. He looked down at the slender hand and started to move the wedding ring slightly with his finger. He did so for quite some time.

"Yes, Martin. It is real. Don't worry."

"I just had to make sure. I still find it so unlikely." His eyes were still fixed upon the golden proof. Slowly his eyes wandered upwards to meet hers. He lifted one of his hands to let her lock of curled hair twirl around his finger.

"You're so incredibly beautiful, you know that?" He whispered breathlessly.

"You're doing pretty well yourself. When I walked towards you down the aisle it almost took my breath away."

"You're joking?"

"No, I promised to warn you if I was."

"Boy, you're gorgeous." He said breathlessly. Louisa giggled slightly.

"Anything wrong?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing's wrong. Actually, I feel a bit uneasy, standing here and listening to your overwhelming admiration."

"Sorry. I'm afraid I can't think of anything else right now."

"So I noticed. You've been quite a naughty today."

"I…I'm sorry."

"Not at all. I liked it. I was just a bit astonished that you dared to that in public."

"Do you think anyone noticed?" He didn't sound as alarmed as Louisa had expected.

"No, surely not. The table cloth was a good cover."

"Good." He still stared at her, slightly caressing her hand and playing with her hair. She started to feel a bit uncomfortable due to the intensity of his look.

"Do you want to stand here all night?"

"I'm just trying to get used to the fact that we're really married? Husband and wife? For the rest of our lives?"

"Yes Martin. It's signed and sealed. No way back."

"Who wants to go back?" He softly said, but suddenly asked alarmed. "You don't regret it, do you?"

"No, Martin! I thank you for this lovely day."

"Yes, but it's not just a day. I mean, this ring means that we…we…." he cleared his throat and Louisa noticed that his eyes became a bit watery "belong together – for the rest of our lives, I mean."

"But we did before, didn't we?"

"No, it's not the same. We _agreed_ to stay together. This is definite. You belong to me." He looked at her incredulously. Louisa was touched. For her, it had been just a formality. She thought of them as an inseparable couple since they had moved in together, at least. For him, it was obviously a very different thing. He finally found someone he belonged to. She reached up to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, Martin. I belong to you." He sighed. Then he stepped backwards a bit. Louisa was a bit confused.

"Louisa, do you mind? Would you stand there for a minute?" He pointed further into the room. Louisa walked over, but Martin stayed where he were.

"Can you tell me what I'm doing here?" Louisa was a bit puzzled.

"I just wanted to look at you properly. You're simply breathtaking." Louisa threw her had back while laughing lightly. Martin was in awe.

"You've looked long enough now. Just come here." She reached out to him, but he was still too far away to touch her. Slowly he came nearer and as soon as he was within reach, Louisa took his hand and pulled him closer.

"I know you love to stare at me, but I know something even better." She informed him, pulling his head down for a kiss. The kiss deepened. Finally he broke away, again staring into her eyes. Suddenly he bent down and scooped her up. She kicked off her shoes. He delicately placed her onto the bed. Then he kneeled behind her on the blanket and started to nuzzle her shoulder. Slowly he folded his arms around her stomach while he continued kissing and tenderly biting her shoulder. Louisa started to sigh and squirm.

"Oh yes, Martin! Keep doing that. That is sooo good." He didn't need any encouragement, as it was exactly what he planned to do anyhow.

He loosened his grip, lifting one hand to brush her veil away to kiss her nape. When she reached back to remove it, he whispered urgently into her neck: "Don't. Leave it. Be my bride a bit longer." Louisa stopped her motions and instead tried to touch Martin somehow, who was still kneeling behind her. One of his hands was resting on her waist, while the other one stroked her shoulder delicately. He moved closer so that his front was touching her back. She leaned into him. His lips travelled from her nape to her shoulders. When he moved upwards again, Louisa groaned: "Do that again, please!"

"What?"

"While you kissed your hair brushed my neck. Please do it again." Martin did as he was told. Realising that she liked the feeling of his hair against her skin, he tried to take care that it was brushing her quite often. He tried to make a mental record of all the reactions Louisa showed to his actions. He was determined to become an expert of Louisa's lust.

His lips travelled up her neck, and his hand slowly started to pull her dress upwards, caressing her legs in doing so. He moved his hands up and down her thighs for minutes, kissing and biting her neck and shoulders gently. She had started to caress his arm which was working on her leg, but all that she could feel was the bloody fabric of the suit. Under her sighs she asked him to take his jacket off.

"Sorry, Louisa. We only have our wedding night once in our life. I'd like you to be my bride for as long as possible, and me be your groom. Do you mind?"

She was astonished, as normally he would let her lead the way. Obviously, this was really important to him. She was already aching for him and if he kept on like this for much longer, then she certainly wouldn't know how to hold back. Nevertheless, she assured him that he could take his time, as long as he just didn't stop.

"That's the last thing on my mind, really. You're so wonderful."

"You're pretty good yourself tonight. Ooooh yes! That's good!"

He had nibbled at her ear lobe, his strong arms grabbing around her to slowly caress her face and play with that curled strand of hair again, which had mesmerized him the whole day. He really took his time to caress her, kiss her. With his arms being so long he could reach almost everything from his position at her back. She could only relish his touch, as he was almost completely out of her reach.

It was new for her to be simply the object of his lust, not having any influence in what was going on, but as he was so tender and gentle, she didn't really mind.

Night was already falling, when they still were completely dressed on the bed. Louisa could just admire Martin's self-control. She actually could feel against her back that he had been ready for quite some time, but this night seemed to be really important for him. He certainly couldn't be accused of rushing things. Louisa secretly wished that he wouldn't allow himself quite so much time. She desperately wanted him now.

Finally he slowly unbuttoned her wedding dress, which was buttoned at her back. With every button he undid he followed with his full lips, leaving a trail of kisses, sending shivers up and down her spine.

"Oh Martin, please! I need you." She gasped.

He continued caressing her thigh, telling her under his breath "Please, Louisa – I don't want to rush. I want to enjoy you to the full."

"One can hardly accuse you of rushing things." She squeaked lightly, her whole body getting tense under his touch. "You're driving me crazy!"

He chuckled as he opened her dress a bit more to reach in with his head, kissing along her ribs, making sure that his hair brushed along her ribcage.

"Oh you dirty devil! I can't take anymore!" But he was merciless. For ages he just gently caressed her. He loved it so much that she was there in her wedding gown, him being finally a husband. Being married meant so much to him.

He didn't want to see her out of this dress, although his lower instincts had told him dozens of times that night to stop the foreplay and finally get into action. He had withstood these notions. There was no need to rush. Louisa would be his wife for the rest of their lives. Decades of sleeping with Louisa. Decades of seeing her naked. But only this night, he could see her in her wedding gown, feel the delicate fabric. He couldn't help but constantly fumble at her garter. He had never seen a more useless garment but also such an enticing one. Louisa had never looked prettier, with her hair put up at the back, and those wonderful locks framing her beautiful face. He wished this night would never end.

He removed his hand finally from her thigh, and after it had given him access to the delicate nape under her veil, he slid them under her dress from behind, wandering all over her body, caressing her breasts and her stomach. Louisa couldn't talk anymore. She just breathed heavily and leaned into Martin. She tried to grab his hands underneath her dress to make them hold her breast a bit longer. Martin was just too happy to do so, gently squeezing her nipples. She had never known how much lust a body could endure without going mad, but she was sure that she couldn't take much more. She had always loved the sex with Martin, but this night he had surpassed himself. He gave her pleasures she had never had before. She had never felt so ready to just grab him and help herself to his crown jewels.

He also found new ways to turn her on over and over again. When she was already a lust filled bundle wincing against him, his hands wandered up her legs. He pulled down her underwear underneath her dress. Whilst kissing the back through the unbuttoned dress, he used his fingers to rub her at the most private part. When she started to squirm uncontrollably, he used his free arm to fix her to him. She panted, gasped, groaned. She could hear him chuckle, as he obviously enjoyed the power he had making her mad with desire.

But she could also feel that his hair, which was pressed against her back, was damp. She just hoped that he couldn't control himself for much longer. She just had this one burning wish in her head.

At last he stopped kissing her back and removed his hands to push her slightly forward. He manoeuvred himself around to finally kneel in front of her on the bed. He looked sweaty and dazed. He pulled at her dress. Breathlessly he uttered: "How can we get this out of the way? I don't want to ruin your hairdo." She lifted herself up, steadying herself in grabbing his shoulders, and let her wedding dress glide down. When it finally lay on the bed, he picked it up carefully to place it on a chair nearby. She slung her arms around him, kissing him desperately, deeply, passionately on his full lips. He let his arms glide around her and carefully undid the clasp of her bra. She only wore the garter now, while he was still fully dressed. He pushed her onto the pillow, starting slowly to place a trail of kisses all over her body, especially caressing her gate of love with his lusty lips. He stopped at the garter.

"Doesn't it hamper the blood flow?" He asked incredulously. Louisa laughed out loud now.

"Oh, Martin! You're truly impossible."

He tugged with his teeth at it, letting his tongue glide around it. Then he continued his trail of kisses. Finally reaching her feet, taking her toe into his mouth and sucking it gently, he reversed his path. When he finally was eye-to-eye with Louisa again, she couldn't wait any second longer.

She pulled his waistcoat open, losing a couple of buttons in doing so. She clung to his neck, running her hands through his sweaty hair. She kneeled up in bed, dragging him up too. Kneeling in front of each other she covered him with kisses, face, neck, everywhere she could reach. She unbuttoned his shirt hastily. Halfway done she pulled it out of his trousers and simply pushed it over his head, dishevelling his hair in doing so. She tossed the garment into the darkness. He had worn it far too long for her taste. His chest was bare now, and she trailed her fingernails over it. She headed directly to the belt buckle.

Now Martin didn't stop her anymore. He had cupped her face and was kissing her deeply. She undid his trousers, pushing them down as far as the kneeling position allowed. Then she pushed him over, so that he landed on his back. Quickly she pulled away the remainder of his clothes and let them glide onto the floor. She threw herself on top of him. She kneeled over him, caressing his chest and lowering herself onto him. In the darkness she could make out his face, smiling with enormous bliss, eyes shut. She started to move her hips, pushing him even more into her. He groaned. Her hands slid over his chest, which was slippery due to the sweat. Martin was frantically rocking now. He was shouting and groaning, holding desperately onto the blanket. Finally, they broke apart.

But Martin wasn't satisfied yet. He gently pushed her into the pillows and rested over her. He was breathing heavily. He noticed that the sweat from his brow had fallen down onto her breast. He kissed it away, sending new shivers of lust through Louisa's body. He stopped for a moment, looking into Louisa's eyes. He gasped.

"Louisa, would you mind if I…" he breathlessly tried to ask Louisa, but before he could finish his question, Louisa practically shouted her approval to him. This time he just entered her, holding her close. She let her arms glide to the back of his shoulder, clutching onto his shoulder blades. While panting and groaning he suddenly cried out in pain. Louisa could feel something warm and wet around her fingers. He didn't stop his motions. Louisa pulled herself up against him and started to suck the blood away which escaped the wound she had given him.

This time it just took a short time for both of them until they collapsed on the sheets. When Martin finally had caught his breath, he told her: "Do you actually know that saliva contains an antiseptic protein. It's called lysozyme and destroys the cell walls of bacteria. So in licking at wounds, you're actually avoiding infections."

Louisa pushed him onto the cushions and playfully slapped his bare chest. "Doctor Ellingham, you are impossible." She laughed.

_To be continued…_


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Louisa awoke and saw Martin resting on his elbow staring over at her. As he saw her opening her eyes, he reached over to brush her locks out of her face. Then he gently got hold of her hand and slowly rotated her wedding ring.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, Martin."

He kept on staring. Louisa noticed the blood crust on his shoulder and touched it gently. He just smiled over at her. Louisa looked around the room, dim light filtering through the curtains. Her dress neatly placed on a nearby chair, his shirt dangling at half height of the dressing table, waistcoat in the middle of the way to the en-suite, the trousers dropped in front of the bed. Remains of a stormy night.

Suddenly realising what had awoken her, she slipped out of the bed.

"Already heading for breakfast?"

"Don't you worry, not yet. Just have to…you know." Nodding towards the bath room.

He watched her naked body disappearing behind the door. While she was in there, she realised she was still wearing the garter. Just about to remove it, she stopped in her actions. Maybe it could still be of good use.

Watching her mirror image she realised the night hadn't been merciful to her. Her hair looked a mess. These elaborate hairdos had the great disadvantage of needing a good deal of looking after. They were designed to provoke action without being able to survive it, at least not the kind of action they had last night. She undid the hair pins, letting her hair flow over her bare shoulders, then brushed it carefully. Besides the slightly curled strands nothing remained to remind her of the ordeal of the two-hour-sit at the salon.

She went back into the bedroom, where Martin was sitting at the edge of the bed, ready to get up.

"You're not getting up already, are you?"

"It's already 6:30. Time for breakfast."

"You're really that hungry?" Louisa purred, walking over to him. "But maybe you can help me with this first?"

She placed her foot onto his bare thigh, touching her garter. She could see his breath going more rapidly now. He stared into her eyes, slowly starting to stroke her leg. He looked like a schoolboy who was just being told off. She leant forward, to touch his neck and give him a peck on the cheek. Slowly running her hands through his hair she whispered: "I'm just not very hungry yet. Maybe we can think of something better to do?"

"But Joan will be waiting for us. And Peter."

"I don't think she will be expecting us so early. After all, we're on our honeymoon."

"But what will she think?"

"She's a wise woman. She will come to the right conclusion."

Martin stared at her. For a moment she could see that he was shocked by what she was implying. So she added. "We're married, remember. And I have the matrimonial right now that you have to serve my needs."

"Oh Louisa, you know – before I met you, I thought that the obsession with carnal desires nowadays was disgusting, a product of a sick mind, morally unworthy and a relapse to the animal state. It was you who made me have those thoughts myself. And those dreams. I simply couldn't control it. First I was desperate. I fought against it, as I felt it was disrespectful to you, but I simply had to face the fact that I kept waking up kissing my pillow. Either I had to admit that I was a dirty old man, or I had to revise my convictions."

By now Louisa sat astride of him. He held her waist to support her.

"To which conclusion did you come?"

"I was in the limbo, really. Now that we're married, it's different." She kissed him gently, then more passionately.

"You have the right now. It's all legally yours." She took his hand and guided it over her body. He swallowed hard. Now she placed his hand on the garter. "What about this one, now?"

Slowly caressing her thighs, he finally brought his hands to the garter. "Where's the clasp?" he fumbled around, but couldn't find it.

"There is none. You have to roll it down the leg."

Martin gulped.

"Are you sure that wouldn't postpone our breakfast considerably?" Louisa threw her head back and laughed lightly.

"And that's exactly why I'm asking you."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"I don't want to wear you out? I mean the average frequency of sexual intercourse in relationships…" He was silenced by Louisa cupping his face and kissing him soundly.

"You're far from average – you're very special."

"So you told me." Putting his hand in her neck he drew her closer, kissing her deeply, but she broke apart. She stood up, facing him. Balancing on one leg she started to caress his chest with her other leg, still wearing the garter.

"If you don't remove it, I will run the risk of hampered blood flow causing thrombosis. You can't allow that, can you?"

"So, as your doctor, you think I have the duty?"

"Or I'll report you for failure to render assistance." She laughed.

"I can't endanger my career like that." So he finally started to remove the garter. He had the enticing garment in his hand and held it towards Louisa.

"What shall we do with it?"

"I don't think we need that right now?" Carelessly she let it fall down, then gently pushed Martin back onto the bed. She was sitting atop of him. As she was bending forward, her flowing hair tickled his chest. He started to brush it gently with his fingers.

"Yeah, Martin, I know – I look a mess."

"No, not at all!"

"It's just that this hairdo from yesterday was not really suited for the wedding night."

"I liked it." He lifted himself up to kiss her neck. When he slumped back onto the cushions, Louisa could see that his expression was a bit stern.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." But something was in his voice.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"The ghost of the Christmas Past, perhaps."

"What do you mean?" Louisa now laid down onto his chest, cuddling close. He kept running his hands through the hair. She could feel that there was something on his mind and he didn't know if he should share it or not. By now she had realised the easiest way to make him talk was just not looking at him and be silent. Pushing him was the safest way to make him close-lipped. So minutes went by. Finally he sighed, cupped her face and turned it so that she was looking towards him. She straightened up a bit, towering over him. He looked into her eyes, his thumbs gently stroking her cheek.

"Throughout the whole of last year I thought what a difference you make to my life. It was only during the last three days, which I had to spend apart from you, that I realised that this wasn't true."

Louisa was puzzled, but had learned by now not to explode immediately, even when she found it a bit odd what he was saying.

"What are you saying? That it is of no consequence to you?" She asked back intrigued.

"No! Not at all. Sorry if I made you think that…" His eyes were staring at her now, just relaxing when he saw her smile at him. She gave him all the time he needed to compose himself. Finally he cleared his throat.

"Louisa, you don't make a difference to my life – you _are _my life."

"Oh Martin, you silly man!"

"No, I'm serious. I should have noticed before, really. But I didn't think it through properly, I suppose."

Louisa waited for some more explanation, but Martin had clammed up. Louisa ran her hand through his hair, he still had her head in his firm grip, staring at her.

"Meaning?"

"Doesn't matter. Just a thought."

"Martin, you can trust me."

"Right. I see." He paused for a moment. "Well, last year, before we moved in together, I came to a point where I felt stressed. Stressed about changing to live up to your expectations. I felt I couldn't deal with things anymore, especially with getting used to Peter. I felt it wasn't me anymore. I wanted to stop trying and just be me. And then it hit me. I didn't know who this '_me_' was that I wanted to go back to being."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean – who the heck was I before I met you? I must have been someone?"

"Sure you were."

"So maybe you can tell me?" There was a mixture of despair, hope and doubt in his voice.

Louisa paused. As the silence endured, Martin's grip became stronger.

"But you fell in love with me. You must know!"

"Well, as I told you – you were there, saving Peter Cronk despite.." She was cut short.

"I don't mean the doctor. I can tell you who Doctor Ellingham was. I know the surgeon and I can give you an account on the student and schoolboy Ellingham. Whom I don't know is _Martin _Ellingham, the private person. There must have been one. Everyone is a private person, aren't they? There must have been more to me than fixing patients and an occasional clock? Can you tell me?"

Louisa looked sadly down into his pleading eyes. A long silence was cut by Martin's whisper. "Please!"

"I'm…I'm sorry, Martin. That's what I always wanted to find – the real you. I just found it when you came back to me last year. I can't tell you anything about it before. I can't tell for sure if it was just hidden and you showed it to me just then, or if it developed while we were together. I simply can't say." Martin let his hands fall back onto the blanket.

"I'm so sorry, Martin." She stroked his chest, hoping it would bring him some comfort.

"Can't you ask Joan? She's known you for so much longer."

"She will just tell the story of the eleven year old boy, wetting himself and crying for having a splinter in his finger. Not very flattering." He kept contemplating, then raised his hand to give Louisa's shoulder a firm squeeze.

"You see, I was bound to make it work between us. I was afraid of going forward, but had nothing to go back to. I was trapped on the way between nowhere and you. I had to move on!"

"And you made it. I'm so proud of you." She kissed his forehead gently.

"Are you? I was afraid to tell you. I was afraid you might pity me. I don't want you feeling sorry for me."

"No, Martin. I don't feel sorry." She urgently assured him, stroking his hair. "I never did. You're so bloody strong. I was always proud of what you had achieved given your bad start into life. You became who you are in your own right. You have to thank no one. You decided who you wanted to be. And you made a bloody good job at it."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, Martin. I do. And don't you care who you were. It's all a thing of the past. Who you are now is all that really matters. And right now you're marvellous." She kissed him softly. Suddenly she remembered that he had said that his point of view had altered during the last three days before her marriage.

"Sorry Martin for asking, but when you had these thoughts about half a year ago, why did you change your opinion during the last three days."

"Promise me one thing, Louisa."

"What?"

"Promise me that you'll never ask me to be apart from you again. Being without you was hell!"

"Sure Martin, I promise you. I wouldn't have asked you now, but I had to have the last fittings on my dress, and then it would be hard to hide away when you're around all the time without it getting crumpled. And it's bad luck when the groom sees the dress before the ceremony." Martin raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Martin. I know it's just superstition, but we had so much bad luck, I didn't want to risk _anything_."

"Right?"

"And I couldn't know that it would be so horrible for you."

"I couldn't sleep one blasted night. It felt as if a part of me was missing. Could you sleep well?"

"Actually, yes. I was just looking forward to our wedding. Looking forward to being with you again."

"One night I went down to switch on the telly. Normally I don't watch that rubbish, but I hoped I could distract myself. Reading didn't help. So I switched through the channels, and on Channel 4 there was a film titled '_In A Lonely Place_'. The title matched my feelings, so I kept watching. At the end there were some lines that struck me. The whole thing was about a doomed love affair, but she ditched him in the end. Mind you, he deserved it. When he walked away you could hear his thoughts '_I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few hours while she loved me._' I realised that this was what I would have been if you hadn't taken me back. I was born when you kissed me. I didn't exist as a private person before. It seems to me that all the years before were simply in anticipation to prepare me to be with you."

"When you walked away from me on our first wedding date, something within me died. There was no remedy for the pain I was feeling. Gratefully you resurrected me when you took me back. Otherwise I would have just lived for a few hours like the hero of the film had."

"Oh Martin! And you told me you weren't romantic!"

"That's not romantic? It's how I really feel." Martin answered puzzled.

"Why do you think romance can't be real? It can be honest _and_ romantic."

"So you think that was romantic?"

"Yes Martin, it was." She cuddled close again, lying on his chest, while he ran his hand through her hair. He was glad now that he had told her. He was reluctant to begin with. He still found it difficult to reveal his innermost feelings and thoughts. Into his chest Louisa said.

"And I promise you that we won't be apart again for the rest of our lives, if I can help it."

"Good."

_To be continued…_


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Louisa straightened up, sitting on his chest she looked down at him.

"You must promise me something, too."

"What's that?"

"Please stop running." He lifted himself up on his elbows a bit.

"What do you mean?"

"During the whole last year you were running and trying, trying to change to please me. Trying to become someone else. Please stop running."

"But Louisa. You said once that there are 20 things about me that are crap. Maybe I've got rid of about a third of it, but there are surely too many things that can still be improved."

"Don't polish yourself too much. I actually like you to be a bit rough around the edges." She brushed his hair with her hand in all different directions. He sank back, looking at her incredulously.

"You really do?"

"Yes, Martin. You're as close to perfect now as I can bear. Please don't change anymore."

"If you're sure? But I'm sure I can still improve. I was thinking about how I could get along with Peter better. I realise that I don't get involved enough. I still don't know what to do with him. Therefore I watched other parents with children around Peter's age and made a list of what they are doing and what I might try, too."

"Do you have the list handy?"

"It's just in the trolley."

"Give it to me."

Martin tried to reach the luggage while Louisa sat on top of him. Finally he managed to get the sheet out and handed it to Louisa.

"Look, Louisa. I thought…"

"Shush! Let me read it in silence." Martin looked at her anxiously while she went through the list. Sometimes she gave him a critical look. Suddenly she started to laugh, hitting him playfully with the paper.

"You must be out of your mind! That's not you!"

"Sorry, Louisa. I know I'm still rubbish with this father business. That's why I thought I should try out these things."

Louisa looked back at the sheet and recited "Building sandcastles? Playing football? You must see that this isn't you. There's no point in trying. I'm wondering why you didn't include Rugby!" She added with a wry smile.

"I hated it at school so much, I couldn't bring myself to write it down."

Louisa burst into laughter.

"What's so funny about wanting to get involved with Peter?"

"Martin, would you have enjoyed doing any of these?"

Martin squirmed uncomfortably.

"It's no good just doing something with him just for the sake of it, if you're hating every minute of it. You'll just end up hating Peter and yourself. It's a waste of time. Just look at this list." She kept on reading.

"It's silly just to think that you…that you…" Something caught Louisa's attention.

"What's that?" She held the list for Martin to see, marking a line with her finger.

"Visiting an adventure park?"

"No, silly. The one below."

"Oh. Just a funny idea of mine. Probably nothing."

"But what does it mean?"

"Brushing up my botany."

"Yes. I can read. Actually, I should be able to if I teach it. But what does it _mean_."

"Well, at university I had to take basic lectures in botany. Compiling a herbarium. That sort of thing. Of course we also learned about the way the plants were used in the old times. As Peter is so curious and interested in nature, I thought I could brush up my knowledge a bit. To show him which plants he's seeing and give a bit of information."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. But do you know that in the old days they chewed willow bark in case of fever or infection? When they investigated the ingredients and their effect, they came up with acetylsalicylic acid as the active substance, which is what we use today as Aspirin."

"Or comfrey, which is a reasonably common plant. It's commonly known as 'knitbone', as it was used to help healing broken bones. It comes down to a prolific speed of replacement of body cells. Sometimes you also see fields of linum, even today used to dye textiles."

Louisa looked intrigued.

"As I said, the idea is probably rubbish."

"Actually, Martin, it's the only interesting thing of your whole list. Would you enjoy gathering the information?"

"It would be interesting. I've forgotten so much about it, but it would be nice to get a grip of it again. But it would be probably boring for Peter."

"No. I don't think so. You don't have to go into too much detail though." Louisa liked the idea, but was also a bit worried. When they started to live together she had encouraged Peter to turn to his Dad with some of the many '_Why_'-questions children used to ask. It turned out to be a disaster. Peter would stare in confusion at Martin who was lost in longwinded, detailed explanations that Louisa found she was unable to follow herself. In the end, a puzzled Peter ran to his Mummy for comfort and Martin's non-existent confidence was even more shattered.

"That's why I say the idea is rubbish. It would be too difficult and boring."

"No, not at all. You have to gather the information beforehand, don't you?"

"I would read through my old books and make notes of what I found interesting."

"Good. Why don't you talk it over with me and we can find out together what will work and what wouldn't. Maybe I can even use some information for school trips."

"You really think it's of some worth?" Martin beamed at her. "If you do, and when Peter is a bit older, there are also some small-scale experiments that we can easily do."

"Like what?"

"Like producing electricity using a lemon. Or the Germans have a way to prepare white cabbage, Sauerkraut. With the help of a metal tray and aluminium foil you can galvanise the Sauerkraut with the aluminium so that it is all silvery."

"Martin, that's great! I'm sure Peter will like that! And that sounds so much more like you. So you see. You can be true to yourself _and_ be a good father. Just promise me to relax and enjoy yourself more."

"By the way, Martin, speaking of relaxation and enjoyment…" Louisa was still sitting on Martins chest, looking down to him. "If I'm not mistaken, this is all mine now." She made a broad gesture including Martin's whole torso.

"Yep. Sealed and signed as you put it, with no right of revocation."

"Then maybe I had better inspect the purchase thoroughly." She started to run her fingernails over his chest.

"I thought the test last night was pretty thorough."

"But you only tested your part of the bargain. I hardly had a chance to inspect my acquisition properly."

"You won't get any breakfast that way." Martin said with a smile.

"Don't worry. It's still early. Anyway, I will find something to nibble at." She gently teased his nipple with her teeth, smoothing it with her tongue afterwards. Martin groaned.

"And Martin, it's my turn now. Last night you took completely over. I'm not complaining, it was great, actually." She propped herself up, leaning onto his shoulders to look him dead in the eye. "But now it's my turn." She started to kiss him, running her hand over his cheek.

"Eeehm, would you mind if you shave first."

"I thought you liked me being a bit rough around the edges."

"Not around those edges!" With that, she gave him a playful slap.

"Be careful, there are laws against domestic violence in marriage."

"Yes, but they will believe me, because I'm the poor innocent woman."

"You bet!" Louisa got off him, and she gave him a little push. He tried to find his dressing gown, but Louisa ordered him not to bother. "There are only the two of us here, and I can't see anything that I don't know about already."

He smiled at her and on his way to the bathroom he said over his shoulder: "Cheeky devil. I bet the books have it all wrong – it was Eve seducing the serpent, so that she could help herself to forbidden fruits."

The cushion hit the door just inches from Martin's head. "It's legally mine – nothing forbidden about it!" Louisa shouted after him.

While waiting for his return, she couldn't help thinking that this little golden ring seemed to make a huge difference to him. Last night he had been masterful as he had never been before. This morning he had opened up to her like he hadn't done since their re-union just a year ago. And now, he was even joking. The wedding ring was definitely very becoming on him.

With this thought, the door to the en-suite opened. She kneeled on the bed and welcomed Martin in running her hand sensually over his face. She cupped his face and kissed him deeply.

"That feels nice. Just sit down." She patted the bed invitingly.

Always the good boy, he sat down. She kneeled behind him and started to massage his broad shoulders. She ran her fingers with a firm grip up his neck, well into his hair. She repeated it and could see that Martin was indeed relaxing and enjoying himself. She leant over to kiss the side of his neck, her dark hair cascading over his bare shoulder. It tickled and he turned his head a bit towards her to bury his face in her beautiful hair.

"You're so absolutely gorgeous." He stammered. Louisa smiled. Slowly she worked her hands around his body, enjoying his firm muscles under the soft skin.

"You're in such good shape." She purred, placing a trail of kisses on his back.

"Well maintained, hardly used." was Martin's short reply.

"I hope I'm not wearing you out by claiming my matrimonial rights."

"That's alright. No use for maintaining it otherwise."

"Sure, it's only worth it if it has to be ready for action, isn't it?"

"Mmmmhhh."

"I'm glad you saved it up for me." He tried to turn around to hug her, but was stopped by her firm hands.

"I told you, it's my turn now to test the merchandise. So lay back and simply watch what happens…"

For the next hour she thoroughly tested her part of the bargain and was very content with what she had acquired the day before.

Finally satisfied she cuddled close to him, he protectively put his arm around her. She took his left hand and fingered his wedding ring.

"This really means a lot to you, doesn't it?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

"You are more relaxed." He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. She rested her chin on his chest, peeking up to him.

"Your declaration of love, and then you even made jokes in the bedroom. You are far more open than before."

"I suppose it's because I don't feel the pressure anymore to win you." He looked into her eyes. Suddenly he added. "Not that I don't want to make an effort anymore to keep you! I will try to make you as happy as I can." She stroked his chest.

"No, I know. You're really trying hard and I value that. You know you definitely won me last year in that cottage, don't you?"

"I wasn't sure. It was promising, but not definite."

"You silly man. How could anyone leave someone who makes such an effort? It was quite impressive." He smiled at her.

"But it still didn't feel that I was home at last."

"You're at home now, aren't you? Settled down?" He stroked her hair.

"Yes, for the first time I'm at home."

"How does it feel?"

"Feels great."

"Oh Martin! If I had only known, I wouldn't have given you such a hard time."

"That's OK. It gave me the pressure to do something, to get a grip on my life. I don't know, possibly if you had married me the first time we tried, maybe we really would have just ended up miserable."

"I'm so sorry for all the years we missed."

"We have so many more together now." He kissed the top of her head. "The only things I regret are the experiences I missed that I can't get back."

"Like what?"

"Caring for you during the pregnancy. Being there when Peter was born. His first steps, his first words. That sort of thing."

"I'm so sorry."

"It was my fault."

"Not entirely. And you're right. Whatever we do, these experiences are lost for you forever. Sorry."

"But now we are one family, aren't we?"

"Yes, Martin."

"But we won't have many more years if we miss all the meals. Don't you think we should get our breakfast?"

Louisa looked at the radio alarm, which showed that it was already a quarter to nine.

"You're right! It's late already."

"Shall we have a shower then?"

"Sorry, I'm afraid I have to leave that for later. Otherwise I'll end up hungry. Breakfast stops at nine. But you go along." Martin looked disappointed.

"I thought _we_ could have a shower." Louisa, already sitting at the edge of the bed, looked over in astonishment.

"What happened about the bath being the highest sanctuary, never to share it again? The last time, after you proposed, the bathroom action wasn't really working."

"I thought I needed to get over a few traumata that I've carried around for far too long."

She bent over to kiss his cheek softly. "I love you."

"After breakfast, then?"

"Gives us something to look forwards to."

"I'd say I have a lot to look forward to from now on."

Both got up and got ready for breakfast. When Louisa came out of the bathroom, Martin was ready to go down. Louisa looked at him in disbelief.

"You're going down like that?"

"Why? Anything wrong?" He worriedly looked down at him.

"No, you look perfect. But you've never had the guts to show yourself to anyone else dressed casually."

"I told you, I have to get over some traumata, and you always told me that it looked smart. Shall I re-dress?"

"No! I was just wondering." She reached up to give him a peck. "You're amazing."

She linked arms with Martin and left the room. With a smile she removed the '_Do not disturb_'-sign. Martin still felt a bit uncomfortable in entering the breakfast room with Louisa hanging on his arm. Showing affection in front of others still didn't come easy to him. However, Louisa beaming up at him gave him security.

_To be continued…_


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Joan spotted the two of them first. She was still sitting at the breakfast table with Peter, who was growing impatient by now and Whitby had joined her for breakfast too. She was astonished to see Marty like this – casually dressed _and _with Louisa clinging to him.

"Marty. Louisa. We had already given up hope of seeing you down here."

Louisa reacted first. "We thought we'd have a little lie-in for a change. After all, it's a very special morning for us." She beamed up at her husband.

Martin cleared his throat and stiffly wished his aunt and Whitby a good morning and patted Peter's head to greet him.

The waitress came to get the orders. Louisa was having a full treat. She was hungry and hoped that she would need a lot of energy for the rest of the day. Martin was stuck in his habits.

"One piece of toast, white, and one boiled egg. Coffee, white, no sugar."

Louisa jumped in. "Oh Martin, get something more substantial for once, please." Towards the waitress she said. "Make it bacon and eggs, please, and plenty of it."

"But Louisa, we don't want to be overindulgent with the calories. We had a rather opulent meal yesterday."

Whitby jumped in "After you missed a couple of meals before. Louisa's right."

"Yes, and I'm sure you will burn up plenty of calories today." Seeing him blush she quickly added. "I mean we planned to take a long walk with Peter to explore the park and the surrounding landscape, haven't we?"

While Whitby and Joan both looked at each other with a knowing smile, Martin stuttered his approval.

While waiting for their late breakfast they chatted happily. Martin had excused himself for a few minutes after the order was placed, but now had turned to Whitby, discussing new developments in medicine. Joan, Peter and Louisa just marvelled at the beautiful spot they had chosen for this weekend. No one on the table realised that one of the staff had come to the breakfast room calling someone's name out. No one but one. Martin smiled over to Louisa for quite some time, noticing that she didn't react at all. After a while he gently placed his hand on her arm, saying softly: "I think they want you."

"What? Who?" Martin gestured towards the young employee repeating over and over again "Mrs. Ellingham!"

"Oh! Right! What can they possibly want?"

Louisa waved her hand.

"Mrs. Ellingham?"

"Yes?" She smiled over to Martin, realising that she still had to get used to her new name.

"There's a delivery for you. If you would come to the reception, please?"

Louisa threw a questioning look towards the party at her table. "I wonder what that is all about?"

She followed the young woman. Martin smiled contentedly, his aunt suspiciously looking over to him.

When Louisa came back, she was carrying a huge bouquet.

"They said there was no card. Martin, was that you?"

He looked down bashfully, playing with his wedding ring. "I just wanted to know if you already react to your new name."

"And I failed miserably!" Louisa exclaimed and slung her arms around him, much to his embarrassment. "You're such a darling!"

"Never mind. You have years to get used to it."

When the waitress came with the hot beverages, Louisa asked for a vase to place the flowers properly on the breakfast table. Martin realised that he indeed had quite an appetite, and the breakfast Louisa had ordered was not oversized. They stayed at the table for quite a while chatting. In between, Joan had got a jigsaw down for little Peter, so that he didn't get bored.

It was well after noon, when Martin and Louisa finally returned to their room to get ready for the walk.

"Sorry, Martin, but I think sharing the shower is not a particularly good idea at the moment. Would you mind if we postpone it until tonight? Might get us into the right mood."

Martin agreed, and they prepared for a long walk. Downstairs they met up with Joan and Peter. Louisa had invited Whitby, too, but he firmly declared that this was a family affair, and he didn't want to intrude. He'd finish some reading he brought down and would be looking forward to joining them for dinner, if that was OK.

So the four of them headed off, taking a walk through the huge park, which eventually led to the Coastal Path. Peter was running to and fro, picking up all different sorts of animals and flowers. When he spotted a creature he didn't know, he would try to catch it to bring it over to Aunty Joan, so that she could tell him what it was.

Martin curled his lip in disgust whenever his son held one of these nasty creatures in his hand. This was one habit he had not inherited from his father. As soon as the animal was released into nature, Martin would take out his handkerchief to clean Peter's hand as well as it was possible without a disinfectant. Louisa just smiled over at Joan at his useless attempts to keep Peter clinically clean. Their son was far too curious to be put off lightly.

For most of the time, Louisa had interlinked arms with Martin, not only to enjoy his touch but also to get him used to appearing as a couple outside their bedroom.

Martin, for once, didn't mind. His whole appearance showed that he was bursting with pride. His tall frame had straightened up even more than usual, and even when he didn't smile, there was a quiet contentedness about him. With the walk proceeding, he even dared to put his arm around Louisa's shoulder, and a hint of happiness washed over his face when she took the opportunity to snuggle close.

It was a perfect day. The four of them taking a walk through the landscape they all loved so much, Peter happily running around, asking questions, showing his parents and his Aunt what he had discovered and the happy newlyweds enjoying being together.

They headed towards a secluded bay with sandy beach. Joan had packed a blanket and some refreshments, which Martin had carried on their way, so they settled for a nice picnic.

Peter immediately started to build a sandcastle with a moat. Joan helped him, while Louisa kept Martin company.

Martin still hated sand, the dirt, the texture of it, and just found it vaguely acceptable to sit down when a blanket prevented any direct contact. Louisa knew of his aversion, and so she respected that he would never help Peter with his sandy business.

Martin had learned not to like, but to tolerate the fact that his son didn't mind getting his hands dirty while playing and as Joan and Louisa were on Peter's side, Martin had to realise that he was fighting a losing battle when he tried to keep his offspring tidy. During their first shared walks, he had tried to make them understand that Peter was getting into contact with all kinds of germs that way. However, it had always ended with more or less vile arguments, and as Martin was always fighting against three, he had learned to surrender.

He would make sure that the child was scrubbed thoroughly in the evening and that he had a healthy diet, and then he hoped that this little body would be strong enough to fight any possible infections.

For Louisa life was perfect right now. She had got used to the fact that Martin would never be _chatty_, but was happy that he had at least learned how to touch her in public. His strong, quiet presence was enough for her, as long as she could cuddle close.

They spent a couple of pleasurable hours at the beach. Louisa divided her time between Martin and helping her son with building a sandcastle. Coming back from helping her son to build a tower, she noticed that Martin was trying hard not to doze off.

"Look, why don't you lie back and take a nap?"

"Here?"

"Why not, we're the only ones here at the moment."

"But sleeping at a beach increases the risk of sunburns. Due to the reflection of the water the effect of the UV-rays is intensified, and while sleeping you don't notice the harm being done."

"But you're utterly tired. We must do something about it."

"I'm fine" Martin yawned.

"Yeah, I can see that. Besides, I don't want you to be completely exhausted tonight."

Martin had always been eager to get eight hours sleep. If people just came to realise the importance of a proper night sleep. It was essential for the body to provide optimum restoration of the body cells. The body had to do repairs all of the time, and even more so when it had been exposed to UV-rays. It was only possible to keep the body healthy if the necessary rest was provided. Otherwise one runs the risk of serious damage if not getting enough sleep in the long run, even elevating the risk of developing cancer.

Martin hadn't had his proper night sleep for four nights in a row, and now that his hormones weren't pushing him, he felt really tired. Nevertheless, he felt obliged to get involved in the _family thing_.

Finally, Louisa persuaded Martin to go back to the hotel to rest for one or two hours. He desperately needed it, and he had to be fit for the bedtime routine, as Peter would be freaking out if he didn't have his proper reading again tonight. The way it looked right now, Martin wouldn't be able to keep his eyes open by then.

After Martin had excused himself, Joan and Louisa kept on playing with Peter in the sand. When the castle was built in all its glory and the moat was filled with water, a photo of the proud builder and his work was taken.

Then, after having a little refreshment, the three of them headed back.

While walking through the wonderful park, Joan looked over to Louisa from time to time. After a considerable time of silence, the older woman asked.

"Are you happy?"

Louisa smiled broadly at Joan. "As happy as can be."

"You're practically beaming. Never saw you as pretty as today."

"Isn't that what newlyweds are supposed to be."

"So you're over the moon because of the wedding?"

"I really thought it was just a formality. But then seeing Martin staring at me as I came towards him in the chapel, seeing how important it was for him, the adoration in his eyes changed my view. Besides, being married makes a hell of a difference to him. It seems to give him the extra boost of confidence, which he desperately needed."

"So Marty makes you really happy?"

Louisa stopped to look at Joan. "Yes, Joan. It's incredible, I know. But I never thought anyone could mean so much to me."

"Good for him."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Mmh?"

"It's good for me, too."

"I could never understand how Martin could be so lucky to win you."

"And I can call myself lucky to have him."

Joan looked sceptically towards Louisa. "I'm certainly happy for him. But it's difficult for me to imagine little Marty as the husband of such a young, lively and beautiful woman."

"Maybe you should stop thinking of him as '_little Marty'_. There's nothing little about him."

"You should know." Joan threw Louisa a cheeky look.

"And that's not just what I mean!" Louisa laughed. "No, honestly. He has a huge sense of responsibility, he has an extraordinary mind, he cares tremendously, he has an overwhelming love for me and to top it all, he stands 6'3''. I can't see anything little about him."

"How are his ratings in compassion and sensitivity?" They had started to walk along the winding paths again.

"He's working on it. He's working really hard and I admire his efforts. If he got top marks even there he would be scarily perfect."

"The village thinks differently. You will have a hard time to convince them that you made the right choice, you know that?"

"Sod them." Joan was astonished by Louisa's remark, especially as there was a distinct bitterness in her tone.

"Has Martin's hostility towards them already rubbed off on you?"

"No, but through Martin I learned a few things about the villagers that I don't like. Maybe being with him did change me in that respect. I'm a bit more critical about them. I've definitely turned a corner in the last couple of days."

"Why's that?"

"Oh, don't tell me you didn't hear? Most of our lovely community actually _congratulated_ me because they thought I had ditched Martin."

"So I've heard. Are you surprised?"

"Bloody hell! Don't they even think what it would have meant for him! He would have been shattered! But obviously they would have found that quite amusing."

"Don't forget, they just know his acid tongue and his impersonal behaviour. They don't see his soft side as you obviously do."

"And he's bloody right to keep that from them. For me it's pretty clear now why he became so cautious. There is something about him that brings out the worst in people and whenever they think they observe a soft spot, they try to exploit that. He has to protect himself."

"I'm glad he has you now to help him."

"And I'm glad that I've got him. I discovered that he takes the pressure off me to be loved by everybody. I tried to be popular with everybody, pleasing even people that I didn't like particularly. I learned now that this isn't so important after all. It's even a bit dishonest. I think now, what counts more it to stand by your family unreservedly. Together, we'll build a wall that keeps the cold of the world out. That provides security for all of us."

"Won't you miss the village, in your little refuge far away from the madding crowd?"

"Surprisingly no. I have my '_girls night out_' every Thursday, and that provides me with enough chatting and gossiping, really. The rest of the week, we have our privacy. You should see what a difference it makes to Martin not to be watched all of the time. You can practically watch him relax as soon as he enters the house. I can even get him to undo his tie and remove his jacket as soon as he comes home."

"And no sneering comments about your '_girls night out_'?"

"I told him that I wouldn't accept that. To be honest, when I'm a bit more tipsy than usual, he is suspiciously tired early and heads off to bed as soon as I come in. It's wise for me then just to let him and just make contact after I slept it off, had my shower and a good mouthwash. He simply finds the smell of alcohol disgusting. But so far he hasn't made any comments about it. So I really don't mind. He knows that I need to socialise now and then and I think he's mainly happy that I don't force him to join me."

"I see. Everything perfectly arranged then?"

"Mmmmh." Louisa couldn't answer properly as she was yawning.

"Didn't you sleep well last night?"

Louisa threw her head back and laughed. She linked arms with Joan and cheerfully asked back. "Did you get much sleep at your wedding night?"

Joan thought back.

"Actually, no. Phil and I still had cattle back then and that night there was a thunderstorm. One haystack was struck by lightning and we had to evacuate the poor animals."

Louisa laughed out loud. "Similar to me…I was also struck by lightning, but no evacuation was necessary."

_To be continued…_


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

It was time for the village wedding party. Louisa had planned everything, mainly to avoid nasty discussions and grumpy remarks from Martin. It was to be held at Bert's restaurant, nicely overlooking the harbour. Almost the whole village were coming. They would start in the afternoon, because Louisa thought that Martin would be even grumpier if he had to sacrifice his precious night's sleep for it.

The party was only a few days away. Martin had never mentioned a word about it, as if he thought that in not talking about it he could make it disappear. Slowly Louisa started to worry, as she had to start to prepare him. After dinner one evening, she mustered all her courage and brought up the subject.

"Martin, you _are_ aware that there will be our wedding party in four days, aren't you?"

"It's hard to ignore, as all my patients kept babbling about it."

"They might, you don't."

"It is talked about enough even without my contribution."

"Well, but I _want_ your contribution."

Martin looked up sceptically, breathed in, opened his mouth and shut it again. Louisa looked at him questioningly. With her look she forced him to answer. He looked over. "No, you don't."

Louisa went over to Martin to cuddle close. She knew that this could soften the blows for him considerably. "Martin," she started to stroke his shoulder "I know you dread the day, but it is my village, and I have celebrated everything with them. Certainly, I also want to show them what a catch I have made."

"I doubt they will see it that way. I can imagine the giggles already."

"I know that you hate this sort of thing, and I love you for going ahead with it." Martin looked down at his curled up wife. "The whole thing is planned, as I thought I wouldn't want to bother you with that." Martin thought correctly, that she just wanted to avoid discussions and have it her way, but kept his mouth shut. "So I don't really want you to do anything, but, well, maybe I'd like to _prepare_ you for what is in store for you, what you will have to put up with."

"Giggling teenagers, Bert's food, sneering remarks and all of the inbreds of Portwenn."

Louisa gave him a wry smile. She had given up on trying to change his attitude towards the villagers. If nothing else, the remarks of some of the villagers when they thought they had split up cured her from scolding him for his attitude. In fact, being with Martin had showed her how understandable his behaviour was. People she liked to have around and always treated her well showed a completely different side towards Martin.

That was one of the reasons why she wanted to ask Martin for the favour she was about to address, even when she knew he wouldn't like it.

"Yes, Martin, but there is something I'd like you to do for me."

He looked down, one eyebrow raised. Louisa could tell by now that this meant he was cautious and guessed he wouldn't like it.

"See, the whole thing is about us presenting ourselves to the village as a couple."

"I thought it was about free food and beer."

"Yes, that too." Louisa smiled. She had learned to find his comments refreshing, rather than just offending, and wouldn't miss them for anything in the world.

"Well." She lifted herself up, steadying herself against his shoulders, to be able to cup his face and look him in the eye. "_For me_ it also means that I want to show the whole village what a wonderful husband I have at last."

"If you ask them…"

"I don't want to ask them, I want to show them."

"Nothing much to show, they know us. Even if they are barmy, their memory is not that short."

"They _think_ they know you, but certainly not as a husband."

"So what?"

"I know what I ask now is not to your liking, but if you want to make me _really_ happy, then…well, you _are_ aware that you will have to kiss the bride?"

Martin looked at her in shock. "No! No, Louisa. I can't! They…they will look at us."

"That's the idea, Martin. To kiss so that everyone can see."

"No, sorry, but no. I can't. It's – private."

"Martin, I'm not only asking you to kiss me in front of the whole village, but I implore you to place one of your monster kisses on me, the ones that leave me totally breathless and sweep me off my feet, leaving my knees all wobbly. I want _every_ woman in Portwenn turn green with envy and Mrs. Tishell practically passing out thinking of what she's missing."

"Louisa, you can't be serious? Those are…for us."

"Martin, I know what I'm asking of you. I know how bloody difficult it is for you to let anyone catch a glimpse of the wonderful man you are. But I'm sick of all the pitying looks with people thinking that I obviously just put up with you because you got me pregnant. I want them to at least wonder if there might be more to it. I want them to realise what they're missing and what I got. _Finally_ got!"

"The others don't matter." He reassured her.

"Martin, _if_ they don't matter, then it wouldn't matter if they see us or not, would it?"

Martin paused. He couldn't answer that. He had to admit, there was certain logic in that argument.

"So silent?" Louisa inquired. He just kept staring into her eyes. "Still deciding?"

"I will think about it. I will."

"When will you let me know?"

"The party is on Saturday, isn't it?"

"Oh, surprise?" Martin nodded. He did not know what he would do. To be honest, the idea of giving Louisa a quick peck on the cheek in front of everybody was as frightening for him as practically falling into the kiss, losing his senses.

"There is one thing more." Louisa continued tentatively. Martin just raised his eyebrow.

"I thought, maybe it would be a good idea if we…well…if we practise a bit for our first dance."

"Our…_what?"_

"You know, Martin? Newlyweds are supposed to do the first dance before the dance floor is opened to everyone?"

"No."

"But, Martin – they expect that."

"No!" He shook his head vigorously.

"I thought we had better practise the waltz beforehand. Gives you a bit more security."

"NO!"

"Right, suppose…well." Louisa shrugged her shoulders.

_To be continued…_


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60

Saturday came. Martin was a bit grumpy, but went along with everything. Louisa had positioned herself with her new husband at the entrance, as she insisted on welcoming the guests. Louisa answered the astonished comments cheerfully. "Imagine…you and the Doc!" "Finally taken the plunge." "Oh dear, you know what you've get yourself into." "Well, if I remember back, at first it seems exciting. Don't let that fool you." Louisa mastered all comments with ease, laughed and chatted. Martin stood beside her stiff as a stick, when directly addressed he stopped each attempt in conversation with some monosyllabic answer.

Finally, the official part started. Louisa had prepared a little speech. She addressed the crowd, apologizing for sneaking away for the actual ceremony and finally inviting everyone to help themselves at the buffet. As expected, the crowd started to chant "Kiss. Kiss. Kiss."

Louisa looked at Martin. He turned so that they were facing each other. Martin looked shyly down to Louisa, while she looked tenderly up, placing her hands on his hips. He still looked quietly down to her. The crowd started to stir. Whispering, single giggles. It was how everyone had expected it to be. The stiff Doc letting Louisa down. Louisa sighed. This would do _nothing_ to silence the sneering remarks. Martin looked towards the crowd, then back to Louisa, finally muttered something that Louisa couldn't understand. Suddenly she felt his right arm around her waist, his left between her shoulder blades, pressing her towards her and giving her the kiss she had asked for. Exuberantly she slung her arms around his neck.

At first, the surprised crowd uttered a gasp. Then the first started to clap their hands, the murmur grew, first laughs and wolf whistles. Martin was distracted a bit by this and withdrew slightly. Louisa noticed, buried her hands in his hair and pulled him close again. Martin understood the message and deepened the kiss once again.

By now, whole of Portwenn was cheering them on, hooting and applauding. Finally Louisa had to come up for breath. Martin looked down to Louisa, holding her closely, she was beaming up at him, stroking his hair. While they were still looking at each other tenderly, they were distracted by some turmoil in the crowd. Looking into the direction of the noise, they saw Mrs. Tishell falling flat on her back. Martin looked back at Louisa. "Just as ordered." He said quietly. Louisa threw her head back, laughing, leaning against him. If nothing else, the sight of the tall, quiet Doc smiling gently and his beautiful wife leaning her slender figure against him, carefree laughing, made even the most confirmed disbeliever believe there was more to this marriage than sheer necessity. Finally Louisa nodded towards the chemist: "Don't you want to do something?"

"She'll get over it. There is nothing I can do that the others couldn't."

"By the way, what was it you said before the kiss? It seemed it had helped."

"Nothing." Martin looked down.

"You can tell me, I won't be angry, whatever it was."

"I just thought '_Sod them_'."

"Right you are!" Louisa laughed. "Sod them all!"

His arm around her waist, Martin led Louisa away from the little podium. There was happy chatting. Some of the villagers had managed to get Mrs. Tishell back on her feet and led her to a chair to rest.

Aunty Joan stormed towards her nephew, pulling him in for a hug. With tears in her eyes, she told him, that she never believed he had it in him. "Well done, boy!"

"Eeehm, yes...Just a moment!" He had spotted Roger and headed towards him. Roger noticed him.

"Hello mate! I knew you had it in you!"

"Eeehm, right, you might have been the only one."

"Come on, this was past due. Everyone in his right state of mind could have seen that you were mad about Louisa from day one."

"Well, true."

"Glad you finally made it. How does it feel? Husband and father?"

"Uuhhmm, good, fine, actually."

"Didn't I tell you – you don't know what love is until such a little one is around. I was really afraid you would ruin this opportunity. Glad you came to your senses."

"Right. Eeehmm. What I wanted to say, actually – thanks. Thanks that you were prepared to put a word in for me with Louisa when you – actually everybody – thought she had ditched me."

"Glad there was no need to. Well, I must say – sneaking away like this and getting married secretly. Gave the village a lot to gossip, I assure you."

"Yes, I imagine."

"I just thought it would be such a shame if you two didn't come together. Well, glad I was wrong." Roger patted Martin's arm. "Would have been my pleasure to make it work. No matter how you appear to be, I think you and Louisa are perfect for each other. Actually, you showed the village a thing or two." He nodded towards the podium.

"Louisa had asked me to."

"You gave me an idea for tonight, actually. I'm always more on the gentle, tender side. Maybe Maureen would like a kiss like that." Martin blushed.

"Well, mate. Congratulations, and keep up the good work!" Roger cheered, then looked around to find Maureen. "Got to find my better half. Have fun."

The giggling behind his back warned Martin that his receptionist was approaching. "Uuuhhhh, Doc! I always said you were a bit of a dark horse, haven't I?" She nudged Al with her elbow.

"Yeah, Paul."

"Pauline."

"Ooohhh Doc, I told Al he should come to you for some lessons. Actually, he could use some coaching like that."

"Paul, please!" Al protested. Martin felt for him, then decided to get his second thanks off his chest.

"Al, a word?"

"Fire along." Martin eyed Pauline up.

"In private?"

"But Doc!" Pauline protested. "You don't trust me?"

"Yes."

"But I'm you're right hand!"

"No." Towards Al. "In private."

"Sorry, Paul. Back in a minute."

Martin and Al walked to the outskirt of the bustle. Martin breathed in deeply. "Aaah, Al, thing is, you and Roger Fenn were the only ones offering help when everyone thought Louisa and I had broken up. I want to thank you for that."

Al's hand landed heavy on Martin's upper arm. "That's OK. Fooled us all, didn't you? Eloping to get married, who would have thought that? I guess you had proper catering this time?"

"Yes."

"I guess I can't blame you for keeping it secret, after last time."

"Yes."

"Well, would do that myself, but Paul doesn't want to."

"Elope?"

"No, marry." Al sighed. "She still has this notion that life passes her by in Portwenn. Dreams of going somewhere, doing something with her life." Al looked towards his girl-friend. "Actually, I'm always afraid I will lose her."

"Anything I can do?" Martin offered, honestly concerned.

"No, suppose not. By the way, did you ever regret coming back? As far as I understand, you were the big chief in London – top surgeon and all."

"Yes."

"So how did Louisa make you come back?"

"She didn't. I wanted to."

"Give up all that just like this." Al clicked his fingers.

"I didn't give anything up. I gained a lot."

"So London's not the great break at all, is it?"

"Nope. Loud, hectic, ugly."

"Yeah, that's what I think. Wouldn't miss this coast for anything in the world."

"You're lucky, really."

"If Paul could just see it."

"Well, I'll see if I can upgrade her job a bit. Maybe that'll make her stay."

"That'll be great. Actually, Doc, you're not half as bad as you first appear to be."

By now Louisa strolled towards them. After that public kiss, she didn't feel shy anymore to touch Martin in public, so she slung her arm around his waist, holding a glass with sparkling wine in the other, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Did you eat anything?"

"No, not yet."

"Hi, Al. How's everything?"

"This time Dad didn't muck it up. It's nice, dontcha think?"

"Perfect. Weather's been good to us too."

"Yeah, going to be a long night."

Martin grimaced. Louisa, seeing this, replied. "Not for us. We have little Peter to put to bed at 6:30. That's the time limit for parents."

Martin sighed relieved and put his arm around Louisa's shoulder, giving her a grateful squeeze.

The greedy silence subsided slowly. Under supervision of Roger, the little village band started to gather. The instruments were tuned and the sheets of music placed on the stands. The amplifier was switched to life. Roger tipped against the micro to test if it was working. "One, two…one, two…"

"Well, hello everybody!" The crowd turned towards the band stand, in front of which a small dance floor was installed.

"I hope everyone's filled up nicely." Roger continued. "And now it's time to lose a few pounds on the dance floor. Time for the wedding waltz!"

Louisa sighed. Everything had been going so nicely until now. After that kiss, she actually even received some _positive_ comments about her choice. Now, the village would think again they had been right all the time.

Martin shuffled through the crowd toward the band. Louisa looked sadly toward him, expecting him to tell Roger that this wouldn't be. Reaching the dance floor, Martin took the one step up, turned around, reached his hand toward Louisa, bowed courteously into her direction. "May I have the honour of this dance?" He asked softly, searching her eyes.

Louisa stood agape. She wasn't sure if she stumbled forwards or if she was pushed towards the dance floor by the murmuring crowd.

The whole of Portwenn stared in disbelief at what was going on before their eyes. If anyone would have told them, they wouldn't have believed it. Was that really the Doc they knew?

As soon as Louisa was in reach, still dumbfounded, Martin grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dance floor. In perfect dance position he took her in his arms, then nodded towards Roger. The band played a slow waltz and Martin guided his astonished bride over the dance floor, in perfect movements, a bit stiff but not without grace and obviously perfectly knowing what he was doing.

Slowly Louisa realised what was happening. Her new husband was swirling her over the dance floor, gliding in perfect unison with the music, his strong arms around her and guiding her perfectly. In the distance she realised that once again the whole village was applauding and hooting. She started to relax and simply enjoy the dance. Glancing over to Martin she saw that he looked grave, but with a hint of pride. She gave him her loveliest smile, leant back in his arms, so that she was bending backwards a bit, making her hair twirl around. With the increased tempo of the music, Martin made them swirl around. Finally the music stopped and Martin stopped at the spot, standing perfectly upright, steadying a dizzy Louisa with his arms. The applause rouse, frantic shouts. The couple stood still, gazing into each others eyes, completely oblivious to the roaring crowd. Louisa tried to catch her breath. She couldn't take her eyes off Martin. He looked so proud and content.

"Martin, where did you learn to dance like that?" She asked incredulously.

"You still don't realise the kind of education I had. That horrid school prepared us for a high society life, teaching everything to slying your way to the top. How to survive a ball was part of that."

"Why didn't you say?"

"Just thought I would surprise you. You're cross with me?"

"No! Not at all. It's just – you still surprise me." He looked bashfully down, and the crowd got the reward of an encore kiss, this time a tender one. No one dared to enter the dance floor, Roger kept the band quiet. This moment was about the two of them.

Louisa broke apart. "Did they also teach tango at that school?"

"Yes, why?"

"Just a thought."

"No, Louisa. Please not today."

"No, I thought in more informal surroundings?"

"I'd like that."

They kept gazing into each others eyes, still forgetting the world around them.

"For the first time I'm thankful to my old school." Martin uttered.

"Me too." He leant down for another kiss.

Seeing this really did it for Mrs. Tishell. She withdrew with her old friend – Johnny Walker.

_To be continued…_


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61

This was one of the last times the village would be able to witness the family man Martin Ellingham for a long time.

Dr. Ellingham came into the village every working day to hold surgery. Sometimes he would pick up some shopping on his way home, but otherwise he was hardly seen in the village.

The villagers also thought he was not much different to before he went to London. Still, his was probably the only waiting room nationwide without any magazines, and tea and biscuits were still sold in the café. Providing them would only encourage timewasters and malingers.

If possible, he was even less patient with them than before. He had wasted enough time, he couldn't afford to waste any more. Especially not with a family waiting at home. It even came to a point that he got really unpleasant when called out after hours, if it turned out to be far from being an emergency. Of course he would always be there for a patient in need, but if it turned out that there had been no danger in the first place, he would tell them off for wasting his time.

Louisa had to intervene at some point, making it clear to Martin that people often couldn't tell if something was serious or not and that he would be the first to accuse them of being stupid if something life threatening had come up without informing him. Louisa even threatened that he would risk losing her love, as one of the things she admired about him was his devotion to his patients.

That did the trick, and Martin endured being called out, no matter what. However, unlike in the old days, he would not treat a minor complaint after hours. So if he assessed a situation as not being serious, he would leave immediately with the advice to get an appointment.

Another measure to cut working hours proved to be the training he provided for Pauline as he had promised Al. Within a few years, she had trained to be a nurse. The usual outbreaks of cold or minor infections could be efficiently handled by her. This proved to be beneficial on different levels. Pauline had far more to do and had no time at all anymore to chatter, giggle or intervene with the Docs business. Al was happy as the more demanding job meant that Pauline stopped thinking about leaving Portwenn. As the worst routine problems were taken off Martin's workload, he could concentrate on the more demanding cases and he was able to cut down surgery time. There was no way that he would work from the early morning until late evening, as he had done before.

Another change that the observant patient might have spotted was that he was far more patient and understanding with worried parents or children. Being a father himself, he had learned that even minor ailments could cause huge worries. Even Louisa was always on the verge of panic if Peter showed the slightest symptoms, so he could imagine other parents with no medical support at hand could over-react at times.

He was less patient, however, when parents neglected their children or didn't pay enough attention to them. Then he would fight his battle against them, mostly supported by Louisa.

He also showed more understanding for psychological disorders. He had build up a strong collaboration with Dr. Milligan, who fortunately had outgrown his appearance as if he had just finished A-levels, and Ellingham would rather sooner than later transfer patients with potential mental problems to him.

Other changes would show eventually. Martin had thought about Louisa's advice to ignore village gossip and ill-natured remarks so that he wouldn't encourage them. Slowly, he started to try to follow this advice. He thought, if he had been able to focus completely on his actions in the operating theatre when the whole world narrowed down to the blood vessels in question and his operating tools, then it should be possible to adjust the focus so that certain elements of his environment would not reach his consciousness. With some practise, it worked.

However, for a long time he could hardly see any development when it came to a decrease in malicious remarks. Only when the current generation of giggling girls, who couldn't stop throwing insults at him, were replaced by the next younger generation, he observed that he wasn't an especially attractive target for their ill-mannered comments anymore. Sure, there were some insults thrown at him occasionally, but he had the same share as anyone else in the village. Slowly, the menace of the teenage girls faded out.

Others didn't find any pleasure anymore to wind up the Doc, too. He showed more confidence and didn't seem to be bothered by someone making fun at his expense. In the beginning, it was still difficult for him not to lose his temper, but then he reminded himself that he had three people who backed him up completely – Louisa, Peter and Joan. What more could anyone ask for?

It also made a huge difference to him that now, he was Portwenn's GP because he _chose_ it. Before, it had been a humiliation, because – as Muriel Steel had put it so unkindly – he hadn't been up to playing with the big boys.

Not this time, though. When he had left Imperial Hospital, he had been a highly regarded surgeon, in the top league, and everybody was sorry to see him go as they knew that his place would be very hard to fill, indeed. This time, he had chosen to downgrade his job, as his family was more important to him than being a surgeon. He hadn't been forced to leave the operating theatre behind, and there was nothing humiliating about it.

He also didn't have to fear anymore the disgrace of vomiting in front of his patients while attending a patient. He had conquered his haemophobia for good.

For Louisa, there was a time of adjustment, too. In the beginning, on her '_girls night out_' she had to face some malicious comments about her chosen partner. Her friends and colleagues were really astonished when she never chimed in. Before, she would have agreed that he could be a pain in the neck sometimes, or irritating, or rude. Not anymore. Whenever someone thought he had to make a funny remark about Martin, she would innocently address something about their partner that wasn't so endearing either.

When one of her colleagues had sniggered about the fun they must undoubtedly have, Louisa just returned the compliment in asking how her partner would cope now that he had lost his driving license due to drunken driving. Everybody in Portwenn quickly learned that she wouldn't allow any criticism, and so they stopped.

As a family, the three of them were hardly seen in the village. On weekends, weather permitting, they would take a stroll along the Cliff Path or through Bodmin Moor. Sometimes they would visit some of the houses and gardens open to the public. Louisa insisted that Peter should learn a bit about the heritage of their country. At first, Martin wasn't too eager to visit Lanhydrock, the Eden Project or similar places, but eventually learned to like these visits as a family activity.

They also had their house and garden, which provided them with enough possibilities to spend their time. On summer evenings, Martin and Louisa had cultivated the habit of sitting in the garden in silence, cuddling close, and watching the sunset. It was a reminder of the weekend that had brought them back together, and furthermore helped to leave the stress of their demanding jobs behind.

The next time the village caught a glimpse of the father Martin Ellingham was on Peter's first day of school. As it was one of Louisa's busiest days of the year, with her being the head teacher, Martin had to accompany Peter to this big step. It was hard to tell who was more nervous that morning – Martin, Louisa, Joan or Peter.

When entering the school for the first time – as a pupil anyhow – Peter was holding Martin's hand firmly. Martin did burst with pride.

When father and son came into the assembly hall where the head teacher would welcome the new pupils and introduce them to their class teacher, the eyes of all parents turned towards them. Murmuring could be heard. The other parents couldn't believe their eyes.

Everyone in the village had taken it for granted that Louisa was responsible for the upbringing of Peter and that Martin had just done the honourable thing in marrying Louisa and provided the income. They never thought it possible that he might be involved in the upbringing. They also thought it unlikely that he and Louisa had a happy life together. Somehow mentioning the Doc and 'happy' in one sentence didn't seem quite right.

However, when the Ellingham-men entered the room, Peter seemed completely at ease in the Docs presence. The suspicious looks from everyone else even intensified when Peter had been pulling at Martin's hand, and everyone could see the Doc squat down and whispering something to Peter, whereupon he started to giggle. Surely the Doc would never fool around, not even with his own son?

Louisa watched this from the sides and enjoyed the astonished looks of all people present. She also realised that Martin was blissfully ignorant of the curious looks. He concentrated on Peter, and Louisa noticed that Martin tried to make Peter feel at ease. Somehow Martin didn't seem to realise that there was no need to comfort his son as he was genuinely looking forward to going to school.

When Louisa approached the podium, little Peter wanted to wave at his mother, but Martin gently took Peter's hand and then explained to him in a whisper what they had tried to make him understand at home before. Louisa was not his mother when he was a pupil and she was acting as a teacher. She wasn't only there for him, her own son, but she was responsible for all the children there. It wouldn't be fair if she would favour Peter. Louisa had to smile when Martin put it that way, that not every child was so lucky to have Louisa as mother, and that she tried to even the odds in trying to be mother to all the children at school. As Peter would have his mother's undivided attention at home, Peter should be fair and allow the other children to have Louisa's main attention when at school.

Louisa followed the routine like any other year, welcoming the pupils as she had done so often before. However, she really had to pull herself together and try not to look at Peter or Martin all the time. Being objective when the own family was involved was not easy to do.

She had cursed her job for the first time, because her duties as head teacher meant that she had to step back on this important day for Peter. However, she could see that Martin was doing a good job.

Martin had even closed the surgery for the whole day, even though the introduction would not even take an hour. Martin had insisted, as the first day would finish earlier than the normal school days, and Peter shouldn't feel alone after his first day of school.

Peter hardly ever felt alone, as at least Joan would be there or otherwise more than half of Portwenn. However, Martin couldn't be persuaded to leave Peter even with Joan. He feared Peter would be upset after this new experience.

So Martin waited patiently near the school while Peter had his first school day, which consisted mainly of being introduced to the class teacher and sort out the administrative stuff. Louisa had made sure that Peter's class teacher would be the one she thought especially highly of. That was the huge advantage in being the head teacher, and she decided it would be stupid not to make the most of it. Besides, she could hardly be accused of misusing her position.

Coming out of school for the first time, Peter saw his father waiting for him. He ran towards him, being swept into air by Daddies big strong arms. Then they drove down to Joan's farm and had a bite to eat. Later, the two of them would collect Louisa when she finished school.

Louisa thought that Martin was making a bit of a fuss about this, in insisting that Peter should not be alone that day. Peter should know that mummy and daddy were still there for him and hadn't lost interest now that he was at school. Louisa couldn't imagine Peter ever feeling that way, but Martin couldn't be convinced. So, Peter was spoiled by his father on that particular day.

Later that night, when Louisa came out of their en-suite, she found Martin standing in front of the panorama windows, staring at the sea. She came up to him and slowly folded her arms around his chest from behind. He put his hands onto hers. She leaned against his back. They stood quietly that way for some minutes.

"Martin, is there anything wrong?" She could tell that he was tense and brooding about something.

"No."

"But something's on your mind."

He kept silent for a while, stroking her hand lazily with his fingers.

"You can read me like a book, can't you?"

Louisa smiled into his back. Sometimes it seemed their two souls had melted into one, each one sensing immediately if the other wasn't completely at ease. Other times, he still could be a true mystery, and he still didn't fail to surprise her sometimes, good or bad.

"I guess I've learned a bit about you, and as you are not really outspoken about what's going on in this funny head of yours, I had to learn to read the unspoken signals."

He sighed and kept staring. It was really funny. All of his adult life, he had been eager to keep his feelings away from others, to appear impersonal, not to show what was going on inside of him. And yet, it felt so darn good that this wonderful woman, who was standing right behind him now, knew exactly what he felt without him having to say anything. It was almost frightening how she sensed his feelings. He knew, he didn't have to say anything. He also knew that he would, eventually.

Minutes passed by. Louisa had learned one thing during her marriage with Martin, something she had never been good at before, and that was patience. She had realised early on in their post-Peter relationship that things had never had worked out before, because she was too quick for Martin. He needed time to collect his feelings and thoughts, to understand them himself, before he could share them. Maybe because his emotions and thoughts were so deep. Maybe because he never had a role model to judge his own behaviour. Maybe he never had cultivated his feelings before. Many maybes.

"Do you think Peter will like going to school?" He finally broke the silence.

"Why not? He's curious. He's bright. I don't think he'll have any problems. And just in case he has to struggle at some point, he'll have us."

More silence followed.

"Good."

"It's that's what's worrying you?"

"Partly."

She leaned up to kiss his neck. "Stop worrying. He'll be fine."

"He looked quite happy today. He didn't seem to mind."

"'Cause not. Why should he?"

Martin sighed.

"And Martin, I thank you _very_ much."

"What for?"

"The way you were with Peter today. And even if you declare me mad, I also liked the incredulous looks of all the other parents when you and Peter came in."

"I didn't notice."

Louisa smiled. In trying to ignore the malicious remarks and shortcomings of the villagers, Martin had learned to ignore them altogether. They were reduced in his view to sore throats and twisted ankles.

"Believe me, they couldn't believe their eyes. Peter so visibly trusted you completely. You made such a harmonious pair."

"It's incredible, isn't it? I mean, the way Peter looks up at us."

"You're a wonderful father."

More silence followed.

"Do you think Peter has a happy childhood?"

"Yes, Martin. Definitely. I don't think he has any reason to complain. He has everything."

"I know that we can provide for him well, but do you think he's happy?"

"I wasn't talking about this big house and his room full of toys. I guess that doesn't hurt, but I think it doesn't make a good childhood. But don't you think he knows how much we both love him? And he's spoiled by Joan, too. He has some friends, not many, I admit, but a small circle of children he likes to play with. What else does he need? And the way you care for us, he is as healthy as can be. Yes, Martin, I really think he has a good childhood."

"I always knew you'd make a wonderful mother."

"Yes, Martin. I remember your first compliment that you ever paid me."

"Wasn't the most appropriate thing to say, was it? I mean, I should have complimented you on what a wonderful woman you are before thinking of you as a mother."

"No, Martin, it was sweet. And I liked that you thought that way. It made it even more precious that you burst it out without thinking. You should have seen your face when you realised what you just had said."

"You are, you know. I mean a wonderful mother. Peter can call himself lucky to have you."

"You're doing pretty well yourself. And I have to confess, I had never dreamt that you would turn out to be the perfect father."

"I wouldn't say perfect…"

"I would, and I do say it. I really have to apologize to you. I shouldn't have assumed that you wouldn't be good at it without giving you a chance."

"You were right. I was hardly good father material. I never trusted myself in that respect."

"And yet, as soon as you had to do it, you did quite well."

Martin went silent once more. Minutes passed, and the quietude was just interrupted by the screech of a seagull.

_To be continued…_


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62

"It's really funny, isn't it Louisa?"

"What is?"

"Nature."

"What about it?"

"I mean, no matter what you believed all your life, nature makes you love your own children immediately. There's nothing you can do about it."

"Why would you want to do anything about it?"

Martin sighed. "I was just wondering." And then he fell into a brooding silence.

"Darling, there is more to it, isn't it?"

Martin kept silent. Slowly she withdrew her hands and rubbed his shoulders. "Why don't you get it off your chest?"

He sighed again.

"You know, if something's on my mind, I always find it quite soothing when I can rest my head against your shoulder. Maybe you should try it."

He turned around and a small smile played around his lips when he answered. "Would take a contortionist to do that."

Louisa smiled back. "I didn't mean that, I meant…oh, well. Just come here."

Taking him by the hand, she led him to their bed. She propped herself up against the headboard and then patted the bed beside her.

"Come, lie down and lay your weary head against my shoulder."

He scrambled in bed trying to find a comfortable position. Normally it had always been the other way around, and as she was considerably smaller than he was, it fitted perfectly, but to position his large frame so that he could rest his head against her shoulder without putting too much weight onto her was a logistical challenge.

Finally he managed and rested his head against her shoulder. He lay there, but as he wasn't very comfortable, it didn't work.

The basic idea of being comforted by her, however, appealed to him. So he tried to figure out a more comfortable position. So he curled next to Louisa and rested his head on her stomach. She rested her hand in his hair, drawing soothing circles.

They stayed that way, and Louisa had expected him to have fallen asleep by now, especially as it was past his bedtime, but something was keeping him awake. Somehow, that made her stay awake, too.

After what seemed like ages, he spoke into her stomach.

"But why?"

"Why what?"

"I mean, you can't help loving your own son, can you?"

"No, I suppose you can't."

"But they could, and I simply can't understand it."

"It's that what's been bothering you the whole night?"

He nodded. She kept stroking his hair. She didn't know the answer.

"But we are lucky, aren't we?" He continued. "Peter is such a lovable child."

"He sure is."

"You did a marvellous job."

"I say we worked together to create him."

He peeked up. "From what I recall, I'd hardly call it work."

Louisa smiled down at him, then kissed his forehead. He rested his head again on her stomach.

"You know, sometimes I wonder that, maybe, I was just an extremely unlovable child."

"I doubt that, Martin. I doubt that very much."

"But even I managed to feel immediate love for Peter the moment I saw him, and I'm hardly sentimental."

"You're a good man, Martin, and a good father."

"But that's how nature has ensured optimal care for the offspring, to make parents feel instinctively drawn to their children. There must be a reason why it never worked with me that way."

"I'd say, your parents are only capable of loving themselves. They are so self-absorbed that there is no room for anyone else. I mean, they didn't even love each other."

Martin stayed that way, putting an arm around Louisa's waist. After more minutes of silence, Martin asked her.

"Do you remember your first day of school?"

Louisa thought for a moment. "No, not really. Dad told me about it, though."

"So how was it for you?"

"According to Dad, I liked to be the centre of attention. Mum and Dad still were together at that point, and the whole family went to school with me. He insisted that I declared that I was grown up now. He said, I acted like a little princess, but then, I always had been his little princess."

"Did you like school?"

"I loved it! I guess otherwise I wouldn't have become a teacher. I'm afraid I also liked the fact that I was brighter than most of the pupils."

"I can imagine. There is hardly anyone in Portwenn who would be any serious competition."

"I'm afraid I was one of those ghastly pupils who always sit in the first row and waving their little arms frantically as soon as a question was asked. I was always utterly disappointed when someone else's name was called to answer."

"Didn't your schoolmates hold that against you?"

"There was some teasing, sure, but whenever someone tried to bully me, Danny was there. He had made it his personal duty to protect me."

"Ah, _Danny_."

"Well, the fact is that I always felt well protected."

She kept stroking his hair for a long time. He quietly rested against her, but obviously was still not asleep.

"Was that what you were thinking about today? Your first day of school?"

He nodded.

"I reckon you didn't like it."

He paused before he answered, then he sighed. "It was the worst day of my entire life."

Louisa didn't comment. Nothing that she could say could make it better. She also had learned by now that there were no words for what his parents had done to him. She waited. Maybe he wanted to talk, get it off his chest. Maybe not. She would be there whatever he decided.

"Two days before that horrid boarding school started, Dad took me to a barber, to get a real man's haircut. No children's locks anymore. After the shearing was over, we went home."

"When we arrived, my nanny was busy putting all my toys away. I especially remember my favourite teddy bear ending up in the bin the moment we came in. It had been a Christmas present from Aunty Joan. When I burst into tears, my father smacked me and declared that the school would take care of such childish behaviour. They wouldn't tolerate any sissies. They would know how to make me grow up. They would even mange to get some manners into a horrid little brat like me. They wouldn't be as compliant as they were."

"Problem was, I never really found my parents particularly compliant, so I was terrified of what the school would have in store for me."

"I couldn't sleep the whole night. I felt exposed with only a few stubbles on my head, I felt utterly alone as I missed my teddy, and I was frightened to death of what kind of place my school would be. I couldn't imagine a worst place than home, but father had made it abundantly clear that now the fun days were over. He justified that they got rid of all my things as I wouldn't have time for such nonsense anymore. I had to concentrate on my studies. On making sure that I didn't ruin my entire life by being too stupid and to finish at school with top marks."

"The world outside was no playground, father pointed out, it was a jungle, and only when you were at the very top, you had a slight chance of surviving."

"He made it clear that he expected me to be the best in my year. Everything else was unacceptable."

"The next morning, my nanny dragged me out of bed. I clutched to the blanket, as I felt it was the only protection I could get. Of course I was fighting a losing battle. I also didn't want my nanny to put back the blanket, as I had wet myself during the night. I was in pure panic."

"Of course, my nanny reported my accident immediately to my father. For once, he didn't beat me. He said it wasn't worth the effort. I was such a baby, a disgusting, retarded infant, but now the school would take care of that."

"He ordered my nanny to scrub me, and then put me into my school uniform – a very uncomfortable suit. Then she was to bring me to the station."

"Mum and Dad didn't come with me. At the station, a sign with my name was hung around my neck, then she sat me in the train. There was no goodbye or anything. My nanny just sighed at how glad she was to finally leave that horrid house for good."

"I didn't have any luggage with me. Everything I would need would be in my room at the school already."

"So I sat in the train and hoped it would never stop. I had no personal belongings, I didn't know where I was going, I felt estranged as I didn't look anything like my usual self and I was terrified what the future had in store."

"I was picked up at the station by the warden of the school, together with several other boys. I immediately noticed that they weren't all shorn like me, and three of them even had their teddy with them. I simply couldn't believe it. I felt betrayed."

"My luck held on. I had to share my room with two other boys, one of them became the worst bully in the entire school."

"I had to come to terms that all I had was a toothbrush, three sets of school uniform, sports wear for PE and a couple of pairs of pyjamas."

"So, on my first day of school, I was completely on my own, lost in a sea of strangers. I didn't know a single person. The school was four miles out of the next village. Nothing to distract us from our studies. So there was no chance to get away, even for a few hours."

"I didn't own anything, I didn't even have any privacy, and I felt the pressure on me to be the best from day one."

"The first night, I wetted myself again. The next morning, the tutor of our wing – the older pupils were always responsible for taking care of the younger students – came and noticed it. He commented about it in front of everybody, pointing out what a cute little baby they had here and that he didn't know that the school had turned into a Kindergarten. He patted my head in the most unpleasant, patronizing way. '_I guess we have to wean this big baby off_', he said. Everybody laughed. The pet name stayed with me."

"I worked frantically. I didn't want to think about what my father would do if I didn't get the top marks. Besides, there was not much that I could do otherwise. And I was good. I always got very good marks, but there were two or three exams a year where one of two other boys would get two or three points more than me."

"The first holidays came, and I had to go home. Home. Whatever that should be. Not one of my belongings was still there. They had turned my room into a snug for Mum. No use wasting space. So I was accommodated for the one week in the guest room."

"Father was not happy at all that there were two boys in my class that did better than me. I tried to point out that in the majority of the exams I had come out first, but the few that I didn't were of far more interest to him. He held a lecture that I was a lazy bum and that most children would give their right arm to have the opportunity to get the best education, the way that I did. Well, I very much doubted that bit. It ended with me being scolded for being ungrateful and being sent to bed without anything to eat."

"I always suspected that my parents had friends over for dinner that night and I simply was in the way."

"The rest of the week, I was very much ignored, which suited me just fine. I succeeded in sneaking out and went over to one of the boys I used to play with until a few months ago. He didn't want to have anything to do with me. I was such a weirdo in his opinion, with this short hair and the stiff suit. He simply dashed off to play with his friends. So I roamed through the streets, definitely knowing that now I had not one place in this entire world where I could go to."

"Sunday morning came and I had to board the train. I hated being at home, but dreaded going back to school, so I hid in the attic. I heard the rummaging through the house as my father searched for me, his swearing growing more and more vicious."

"I don't know what I was thinking, after all, how long could I hide there? It was the most stupid idea. Of course, my father found me eventually. I had hidden in a distant corner, where no adult could reach. Father was lying on the floor, trying to grab me, but I could always draw aside. Then he disappeared."

"I don't know why I had hopes that my tactic might have worked. I must have been utterly stupid. Of course father was back in a tad, steaming with anger."

"I got the beating of my lifetime. He had gone downstairs to fetch one of his golf clubs. Kneeling in front of my hideout, he battered with the club into my direction, sometimes hitting me, and finally drove me out of my hole. He swiftly removed his belt with one motion and kept on whipping me as long as his strength held out."

"I was lying on the floor and just tried to cover my eyes. I was afraid he would blind me if I didn't. You know, it's really funny. After some time the pain is so dominant, you don't mind it anymore. I just lay there and hoped he'd finish me for good. I tried to imagine him in court for manslaughter, and then him being put into prison. I imagined prison as something like my school. That thought made me laugh. That fuelled his fury anew, and the beating continued."

Louisa swallowed hard, and really couldn't withhold her tears anymore. She had tried to hold them back for his sake, but this was really too much. It briefly crossed her mind that the beaten body on the floor back then was the same that could bring her to the verge of ecstasy.

"Of course I was back at school for the start of the new term. In PE, I was the laughingstock for weeks, as I was black and blue all over."

Louisa pressed Martin's head closer to her chest. She folded herself above him, covering his beaten body. No one could get him out of that stronghold, not even with a whip. He had told her all this without any emotion in his voice whatsoever. He had just clutched onto her.

Now she was crying into his hair.

"Sorry, Louisa. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to make you cry." His voice was all concern.

"No, Martin, it's alright." She sniffed. "I'm fine."

She held him close. It simply wasn't fair what he had to go through. It also explained a lot. He had to have short hair and wear a suit, so he _chose_ to. It took the sting from bring forced into doing it. He had been beaten or ridiculed when voicing his wishes, so he decided he needed nothing and no one. So nothing could be refused him. Every touch from anyone else during his childhood and adolescence had meant pain, so he had been cautious not to let anybody near him. It was absolutely understandable that he kept everyone at arms length now. Anyone but her and Peter.

"But how could Joan stand by and watch this?" Louisa asked shocked.

"She didn't know." Martin assured her tenderly. "At least not the worst of it. Father made it abundantly clear that I wasn't even to try to complain about it to anyone. No one would believe me. They would all know that I was a stinking little liar."

"So you never told anyone?"

"You're the first. Except for Whitby, of course."

She cuddled her husband. She admired him so much for the strength to live through all of that. He must have had a lonesome miserable life before, alone with these dreadful memories in his head.

"But Joan must have noticed something?"

"I was just sent to Joan's farm during the summer holidays. I had been at boarding school for months before I arrived at the farm. So I didn't have any bruises when I arrived there, except for the _normal_ ones you get at boys schools."

"I still remember how shocked Joan had been when I arrived at my first holidays. I remember her saying something about missing that nice little boy, as I had become such a serious adult since she had last seen me. And I guess that was right. Father had beaten my childhood out of me. When Joan asked if I at least still had her Teddy, I started to cry. I told her how my parents had got rid of all my things."

"Joan assured me, there would always be a room at her farm for me. The next time I came, a Teddy just like the one my nanny had thrown away waited for me on my bed. She also had bought some other toys, or some were given to her by neighbours who didn't need them anymore."

"I know it sounds silly, as most of the time I couldn't use them, but it felt good to know that there was one place where things were that belonged to me. A room, just for me. I think, she still hasn't used this room for anything else."

Louisa felt numb. She had suspected that Martin had been abused by his parents for a long time. She also knew for several years now that he had had a difficult childhood, but this was far worse than she could have imagined it in her worst nightmares.

Maybe it also made her understand why he had been afraid to become a father. It explained the pure horror on his face, seeing her pregnant. He was too responsible to cause pain like that, but he had feared he would be just like his father.

This made her even more proud of him as he had become the best father any boy could hope for. He always was there when Peter needed someone to turn to with all his little problems. He was fiercely protective if any other child bullied or teased him. He was gentle with Peter.

At first, Louisa had been a bit taken back that she had to do all the punishment, as hardly any upbringing could go without. Now she understood. He could never punish Peter, as his old childhood memories would turn even the slightest penalty – like not being allowed to watch TV – into some nasty reminder of his own abuse.

Louisa just silently caressed Martin, who had buried his head in her neck. She kept on stroking his hair. She felt so deeply for him and felt so proud that he could finally, after decades, get it off his chest.

She also understood that he couldn't have told her about his youth earlier. It was not the stuff that you could tell after a dozen dates. It was something that you could only tell a true soul mate, someone you knew by heart, someone who wouldn't say the wrong thing.

"You know, Martin, it's such a shame that there are limitation periods for suing against child abuse. It takes the victims too long to come to terms with what had happened that hardly anyone ever gets punished."

Martin looked up. "I couldn't sue them. I never would have done."

"But why, Martin? They'd deserve to be punished for what they did to you."

"I simply couldn't."

"No misled sense of family, I hope. You owe them nothing."

"No, it's not that. But I would have had to tell my story to absolute strangers. I could never do that. Besides, it would also mean seeing my parents again. I really don't want to ever. I'm glad they've never turned up or made contact for years."

"I just thought it might help you to come to terms with it."

"But why should it? Them being punished doesn't make the things they did undone."

Louisa rubbed his shoulder tenderly. They cuddled for quite some time.

"You know what is really therapeutic for me?" Martin continued. Louisa knew that he didn't expect an answer.

"Seeing Peter, how he's growing up, being able to support him. Realising what a happy childhood can be. And you know what the best part is?"

"What?"

"The way he trusts me."

"Oh, Martin. Of course he does. Why shouldn't he?"

"I don't know. I was so frightened, when I saw you pregnant, that I would make just as bad a parent as mine were. After all, I have their genes."

"Yes, but genes alone aren't everything. Besides, you have some of the same genes Joan has, too. So not everything's lost, then."

"Thank you, Louisa. Thank you for this wonderful child."

"That was a true pleasure, honestly it was."

"And he will like school, I'm sure of it. He wasn't frightened at all today."

"He was with you."

"Yes, he was. And he knew the place, as he had been there so often, visiting you. And he knew all of his future schoolmates, some of which are his friends. And whenever there should be anything wrong, you're in the same building, and I'm just about five minutes away. He'll never feel deserted, alone."

"No, he will never feel alone. And after school he'll be with us at home. And he can tell you everything."

"He can tell _us_ everything."

"Yes, but you did notice that he talks about the important things with you. You're more understanding. I guess he feels you take his little problems more seriously."

"There are no little problems, Louisa. Everything can hurt such a little chap."

"That's what I mean. I see so many of these normal childhood problems, I don't think Peter ever has anything serious on his mind."

"But nevertheless you're always compassionate. You know, that was one thing that drew me towards you from the beginning."

"Really?"

"The way you cared for your village, for your pupils. You always had an open ear for all of their sorrows. It was strange for me to see the way you cared about Peter Cronk. I had never seen anyone care for someone like that before. And where I came from, compassion was taken as a sign of weakness, but you were so strong. Far stronger than I was."

"No Martin. That's not true. I could never have gone through what you had to go through."

"Of course you would. You don't have any choice."

Louisa fell silent. Of course, he didn't _choose_ to survive. He had to.

Louisa tightened her grip, burying her head against his shoulder, cuddling him. Soon afterwards he fell asleep, his head still resting on her stomach. Louisa did not sleep any time soon. She couldn't help but think about what he had told her. He seemed calm when he talked about it. His sessions with Whitby obviously had helped him to accept his past. Most of all, she was glad that he finally let her help him. That he finally was able to confide in her.

She was glad that Peter helped him, too. She thought back, realising how close it had been that he would have missed all of that.

He had expressed his regret about what he had missed during Peter's first two years of his young life after the wedding.

Louisa had tried to soften it for Martin with one Christmas present, when she had compiled a photo book for Martin, with all the important steps of the first two years. The first photo with Martin, Peter and herself during his first week-end visit was also in there. Of course, it was not the same as actually being there, but Martin did swallow hard when he skimmed through it.

Now Martin was there, being at Peter's side during all of his important steps. He would accompany him until Peter was grown up, able to find his own way in life. She was certain, that Peter would eventually look back when grown up and would be proud of his father, would be glad to be his son. She was sure there would be no regrets on either side, and also no hard feelings.

She was interrupted in her thoughts by Martin mumbling something in his sleep. She looked down at him and stroked his hair. She could see him relax. She watched him intensely.

She had often wondered what had made him come back. After all, it had taken him two long years. Two years in which he had changed. Two years that she knew very little about. He had never told her what had made him decide to come back. She had accepted it, and she didn't inquire. If he wanted to tell her, he would do so. Maybe she really didn't want to know, she thought.

His confession tonight was heavy on her soul. Maybe she would feel equally shattered if he told her about his time in London. Maybe he didn't share everything with her to protect her.

She always felt safe in his arms, and nothing could change that. She tried to imagine what her life would be like without him. After all, it was not to her merit that they were together. She had to thank this wonderful husband and father for that. She bent over his sleeping body and rested her cheek on his head. Her lips close to his ear, she whispered.

"I love you, Martin, and thank you so much for being here."

He mumbled in his sleep and tightened his grip, but kept on sleeping peacefully.

Peaceful. Maybe that was the key. He had found peace. He had found family. He had found love. He had found a life.

And what had she found? She had found security. Yes, that was most paramount. She had found trust. She had found help. It sounded trivial, but she always did have the feeling that she had to do everything on her own, otherwise it would just go wrong. With him it was different. If he promised to do something, she could be sure that it was done the best possible way. She never worried about it then.

And she had gained his trust. For someone who had never learned to trust anyone, who always had to shield himself, this was most probably the greatest gift he could have given her. And he had given it freely and willingly. She hadn't really earned it. He had presented it to her and maybe she had grown to be worthy of this gift.

Yes, most of what they had now was Martin's doing. She had always prided herself that she had done all the work on their relationship in their first years, and always accused him for sabotaging it. However, her ambitions had led nowhere.

Only when he had decided to put his effort into their relationship, it had worked. Why? Maybe because he had put more effort into it. Maybe because he had made sacrifices.

Did she have to sacrifice anything? No, not really. She was definitely on the winning side. Maybe she had given up village life, but she couldn't convince herself that this was a big loss.

He had sacrificed his career. He had given up a job others would kill for. Did he miss surgery? He never mentioned it. She had never asked. She hoped he had have gained more than he had lost.

Finally she dozed off herself.

Little did she know that before long, Peter and Martin would grow even closer. It started in autumn, when Peter had to build a kite as a school project. Louisa had declared that she had spent the whole day doing this sort of thing and that she expected Martin to take over when it came to assist Peter.

At first Martin had been reluctant to do it, but then had accepted it as a _father's duty_. He researched about the optimal way to build it, taking aerodynamics and durability into account. He ended up with a design he found on the internet and then Peter and he would go to work. Much to Martin's amazement, he liked working with Peter.

When the kites were presented at school, Peter was a bit disappointed at first. His kite didn't look as elegant and streamlined as the ones of the other boys. He even was a bit teased as his kite looked a bit clumsy.

Peter's mood was definitely lightened when the class assembled to let the kites fly. Many of the kites of his classmates were torn apart by the strong wind quickly. His kite however was flying high, sailing perfectly in the wind. His Dad knew best, after all.

Martin had estimated that getting the kite off the ground wouldn't be an issue with the strong coastal winds. So close to the sea, there was always a strong wind going. Therefore, he had concentrated to construct the kite to make it as stable as possible, so that it would survive even stronger blasts.

Fortunately for Martin, the day when the kites where tried out was extraordinarily windy, and the gale tugged heavily at the ropes. More fragile constructions were soon torn apart, and his security policy had paid off.

Martin also had noticed that Peter had helped eagerly in building the kite, so he explored his interest in this field with the next Christmas present. He gave Peter a model kit of the '_Victory_'.

Peter asked his Dad to help him in putting it together. On weekends Martin would sit down with his son, painting and gluing these tiny pieces together.

Not long after this model was finished, Peter expressed his wish to have another one of an aeroplane he had spotted in a toy shop in Truro. Martin was happy to buy it, as he had enjoyed building the model, too.

Not long after, the ready-made model kits weren't demanding enough for father and son. They turned a garden shed into a workshop, equipped it with all sorts of tools, and then they started to plan to build a model on their own. They would decide on an object they wanted to build together. Then they'd research on the internet the exact measurements. Martin pointed out to Louisa that this would also provide Peter with valuable lessons about web-based research. Then they would calculate the exact scale. In the beginning, it was Martin who did all the calculations, but with the years proceeding, Peter would help.

Then they started to build wooden models of ships or planes. At first, they just built miniature reconstructions, but with Peter growing older and both being more experienced, they decided to start to make them fully functional.

Father and son would sit down, discussing the necessary power behind the engines, and which motors would best be used. In a playful way, Peter would practice his research skills, maths, physics and his handicraft all at the same time.

The two male Ellinghams would spend practically the whole Saturday in their little workshop. On the few occasions Louisa would enter this male world, she couldn't help but smile. Father and son would exchange words only to ask for a certain tool or to point towards a problem. Otherwise they would work in silence. The workshop was organised like an operating theatre, only that the main worker, Martin, wouldn't ask for a blade or swab, but a drill or chisel. Louisa sometimes thought it might be Martin's compensation for his old job as vascular surgeon.

While both men were absorbed in their building work, Louisa came to spend Saturdays alone in the big house. Sometimes she was frustrated. Then she scolded herself. She should be glad that father and son were so close. If anyone would have told her that they would spend each Saturday together, completely inseparable, at the time of Peter's birth, she would have been overwhelmed with joy. Now she felt left out.

After a while, she realised that Saturdays would never be the same again, and instead of moaning about it, she realised that this was a chance to fill it with things she liked to do. After checking if it was OK with Martin, she started to invite friends and colleagues over for brunch or just some leisurely hours. Finally, she had her kitchen-diner filled with friends who would meet and have a few laughs over an informal meal.

Martin wasn't disturbed, as he was in the outside building constructing all sorts of vehicles with his son until it was correct, right down to the last detail.

While Martin's conversation was originally dominated by medical terms, more and more technical vocabulary sneaked in. There was hardly a family meal, when father and son wouldn't discuss further improvement for their current project or plans for further things to build.

Sundays they would spend together. When the weather was fine, they mostly spent the days outdoors, often taking walks on the cliffs or on the Moors. More and more, the two builders used the opportunity to test out the mobility of their latest works.

What had begun so innocently with a kite made for the school had developed into a hobby, if not passion, for Martin and Peter, which they would share for many years.

Louisa also had to thank this hobby for the most thoughtful and precious gift she ever received. For her fiftieth birthday she was presented with a miniature model of Portwenn primary. Martin and Peter had enquired of the exact measurements, also asking craftsmen who had worked at the school recently. With the data they could gather and a couple of photos, they worked out the exact dimensions, before building an impressively sized miniature of it. Louisa was in tears when she unwrapped it. They had spent so many hours to build it, and they were so thoughtful, as they knew that her school was so much a part of her life

There was hardly any father-son relationship in Portwenn that was as close as that of the Ellinghams.

_To be continued…_


	63. Chapter 63

Epilogue

Several years later.

Peter finished his A-levels with flying colours. Louisa attributed Martin's genetic influence as being responsible for the brightness of their son, while Martin was convinced that Louisa's early encouragement was far more important.

Being quite well off with the savings Martin had put aside for his son since his birth, Peter decided to volunteer for some charity work for a year, to get a 'sense for life'. Louisa's heart was heavy seeing her son move abroad, even if it was just planned for a year.

Martin decided that at this new turning point in life, it might be a good idea to re-visit the place where his life had finally turned into something good, something worth living. He inquired about a certain remote Cornish cottage with lovely sea views. It was still used as a holiday cottage, held by the same people who had rented it out to him so many years earlier, and it was still well kept.

He arranged a locum for a week and told Louisa, that she should pack clothes for one week. School was out for the term, and they were just about to drive their son to the airport where he would board to South America. Both had heavy hearts to see him go, but also were proud of his sense of responsibility.

With his money, he could have taken a journey around the world and taste all the good things in life, but he devoted one year of his young life to the less privileged.

After that year, he planned to study medicine. In contrast to Martin, Peter had the freedom to chose, to do what he liked, but he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. Martin was incredibly proud of his offspring as he patted him on the back as farewell.

Louisa was very silent when they drove away from the airport. She felt an emptiness she had never known before. She and Martin had their own luggage in the boot, but only Martin knew where they were heading. Just as it had been all those years before. But this time, they were together. Louisa woke up from her gloomy thoughts when she recognised the scenery.

"Martin, you haven't…" She gently touched his sleeve, but he brushed her away as if it disturbed his concentration while driving.

"I thought at this point in our lives it might be a good idea. It's a big change, isn't it?"

"It sure is." Louisa's voice was sad.

"Strange. It's the first time for us to live together, just the two of us. After all these years. We will have to make some adjustments, don't you think? But this place helped us before in giving our life a new direction."

She looked over at Martin. From his account, this was almost superstition. Or had he developed acute nostalgia?

The cottage looked still as lovely as they both remembered it. While Martin brought the luggage in, Louisa headed straight to the panorama windows in the lounge. She noticed with a smile that her memory hadn't exaggerated the beauty of the views. She stood there, watching the sea, hearing her husband handling their stuff, and thought of her son in that plane, on his way to his new life.

Martin finished the tasks and went into the lounge. He stopped shortly in the doorframe. He looked over at Louisa, with her back turned to him, staring through the windows at some spectacular views. He still felt an incredible love for her. For him, she was still the most beautiful woman that ever walked on this earth.

Quietly he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close, resting his head on hers. She placed her hands on his, which were around her waist. There was a familiarity now between them with these gestures. They had done it more often than they could count, but it still felt right. Silently they watched the scenery together. Finally it was Louisa who broke the silence.

"So you still remember…all those years ago."

"Sure I do. It's when my life began."

Louisa leant her back against him. Even now it was uncommon for him to be that affectionate in his words, almost sentimental.

"It's been a good life, don't you think?"

"The best. I couldn't have asked for anything more."

"Do you regret anything?"

"With all the things I buggered up in our first years, before we were really together, I should do, really, but somehow it seems to me it had to be that way. It forced me to become the man I am now."

"It wasn't your fault. When I look back now, you really did remarkably well considering what you've been through before, how lonely you were."

"But I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry."

"Looking back, you really came a long way, didn't you Martin?"

"A long way together." She squeezed his hand. "What if I hadn't lured you down here way back then under false pretences? Would you ever…" Martin couldn't even finish his question.

"Sorry, Martin, but no. I think I would never have contacted you. I thought I knew exactly who you were and that it wouldn't work. That we would both get hurt."

"Would have been a shame."

"Yes, it would."

"Do you think you would have been happier without me, with someone else?"

Louisa turned around now. "Martin, how could you even think?" She pulled her husband close for a kiss. "Didn't we have wonderful years?"

"And they're not over yet." Martin reminded. "You know, you're still the most beautiful woman I've ever met." For Martin the streaks of grey in his wife's hair and some wrinkles that had developed over the years made her just look more mature, but did not impede how stunning she looked.

Louisa smiled. She saw other marriages around them break up, men and women with mid-life crises hunting for eternal youth. She was grateful that they both wore their years with pride. They had lived their life together, and life had left a mark. But they had built a life together, too, and the bond got stronger with each day they spent together.

Martin stared into her eyes. She smiled as she thought that this was the great constant in their life together, from the very first encounter at the plane up to this moment – his habit of staring at her, whenever he could. She still felt flattered every time she felt Martin's eyes upon her. She smiled.

"What are you smiling at?"

"You." Martin looked puzzled. "You know, it just struck me that some things never change."

"Like what?"

"Like the way you looked at me just now. Exactly the same expression as in the old days, when we were lucky if we ever managed a kiss now and then."

"I was very awkward, wasn't I?"

"Yes Martin, you were. It drove me mad. I couldn't understand how a grown man, who could save a life with ease, was at loss when it came to simple signs of affection – holding hands, a light kiss – it was always enough to drive me up the wall."

"You certainly taught me a thing or two." Martin smiled. "You were always the best teacher Portwenn ever had."

"Yes, but Sex Ed was not one of my usual subjects, you know?"

"But you were _really_ good at it. And somehow I feel, I need a refresher course. What do you think?"

Louisa smiled at him. She couldn't agree. In this field there was nothing that she could teach him anymore. She thought back to the first time at White Rose Cottage, and then she looked at this confident man beside her now. He surely had come a long way. And she was proud that he had chosen her to be his escort on his long, strenuous journey. And she was glad, that they had found their own little paradise on their way.

But now it was time for another walk together. So she took his hand and slowly led him up the stairs.

_The End_

_I thank everyone who patiently accompanied me on this journey through the fictional world of Portwenn. I know, I strained the patience of you with my slow pace, but I can assure you that I didn't know the length of the way when I started it. When delving into the relationship of Martin and Louisa, they suddenly started to quarrel against my wish, and as I had planned a happy ending from the start, so I had to try to smooth things between them. Then again, they played some scenes before my internal eye that I felt obliged to write down. Then there were times, when they eluded me, and I had to work hard to find a little pathway to connect two scenes._

_Stubborn as these two are, they sometimes insisted that something important to them should be included. For example, I hadn't planned to give such an insight to the village wedding party, but Louisa made it abundantly clear that she would not accept that her party was left out, when Martin's "secret" wedding was described in such detail._

_So, they kept me on the road with them longer than expected. I thank all kind readers, who travelled with me on this long way. My special thanks goes to all the kind souls who took their time to comment. It was a huge encouragement._

_My very special thanks goes to my proof reader, fanficfan71, who didn't know on which long journey she embarked when she offered me her help. Thanks for the patience with my stubborn refuses to listen to her advice (sometimes even I noticed that I was wrong about that) and for the very quick corrections I always got. I am deeply indebted to you._

_My last but not least thanks goes to Buffalo_ _Pictures for creating such wonderful characters. It had been fun to play with them for some time. I hope, I'll return them to you undamaged._


End file.
